AMOUS 

RONTIERSMEN 


FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

AND  HEROES  OF  THE  BORDER 


FAMOUS  LEADERS  SERIES 

BY 
CHARLES  H.  L.  JOHNSTON 

Each  one  volume,  lar£e  1 2mo,  Illustrated, 
$1.50 


IFAMOUS  CAVALRY  LEADERS 
FAMOUS  INDIAN  CHIEFS 
FAMOUS  SCOUTS 
FAMOUS  PRIVATEERSMEN 
FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN 


L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

53  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 


DANIEL    MORGAN. 


Famous  Frontiersmen 

AND  HEROES  OF  THE  BORDER 

Their  adventurous  lives  and  stirring 
experiences  in  Pioneer  days 


By 
CHARLES  H.  L.  JOHNSTON 

Author  of  "Famous  Cavalry  Leaders,"  "Famous  Indian 
Chiefs,"  "Famous  Scouts,"  etc. 


Illustrated 


BOSTON       L.    C.    PAGE    & 
COMPANY^  MDCCCCXIII 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  November,  1913 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.   SIMONDS   &   CO.,    BOSTON,   U.  8.  A. 


u.  c. 

ACADEMY   OF 

PACIFIC  COAST 

HISTORY 


DEDICATED 
TO    THE 

ffiOB  Scouts 

OF    THE    WORLD 


Thanks  are  due  the  Librarians  of  Congress, 
The  Boston  Public  Library,  and  Harvard^ 
University,  for  numerous  courtesies  ex 
tended  to  the  Author  during  the  prepara 
tion  of  this  volume. 


PREFACE 

MY  DEAR  BOYS;  AND  PARTICULARLY  THE  BOY 
SCOUTS:  As  so  much  interest  was  displayed  in  my 
book  "Famous  Scouts"  and  requests  for  more  tales 
were  made  by  many  of  you,  I  have  collected  some 
interesting  stories  of  valiant  and  daring  adventurers, 
who  were  among  the  early  settlers  of  the  wilderness. 
These  men  were  real  scouts  and  trappers,  for  they 
lived  in  the  wilds  and  had  to  know  how  to  shoot  a 
rifle ;  how  to  trap ;  and  how  to  camp  in  whatever  place 
night  happened  to  overtake  them.  Savage  men  and 
wild  beasts  were  frequently  encountered,  and  desper 
ate  were  the  rights  which  these  fellows  engaged  in. 
Some  of  them  lived  to  a  happy  and  prosperous  old 
age;  some  perished  from  exposure,  or  by  the  hands 
of  their  red  enemies. 

You,  yourselves,  are  playing  at  scouting  in  cities, 
in  villages,  and  in  a  country  which  long  since  has  been 
populated  by  the  whites.  These  hardy,  old  fellows 
did  not  play  at  scouting,  for  it  was  their  real  existence, 
and  they  had  to  know  the  game  from  boyhood.  Their 
deeds  may  seem  to  be^atrocious  and  bloodthirsty,  but 
were  they  not  surrounded  by  implacable  enemies  who 
had  no  mercy  upon  them  when  they  caught  them  un 
awares  ? 

When  I  was  in  Harvard  College  our  Professor  of 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

English  —  Dean  LeBaron  Russell  Briggs  —  used  to 
advise  us  to  "  browse  in  the  Library."  I  followed  his 
advice  in  regard  to  these  stories,  and,  after  brushing 
away  the  cobwebs  from  many  a  forgotten  volume, 
have  been  able  to  give  you  the  accurate  histories  of 
several  important  frontiersmen  and  heroes  of  the 
border.  These  tales  are  all  true  and  are  vouched  for 
by  early  historians.  All  that  I  hope  is  that  I  have 
served  them  up  to  you  in  a  manner  that  is  interesting 
and  is  not  dull.  Believe  me, 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

CHARLES  H.  L.  JOHNSTON. 


THE  FRONTIERSMAN 

HE  stood  'neath  the  whispering  pines,  by  his  cabin, 
Lanky  and  gaunt,  his  face  seamed  and  scarred, 
Knotted  his  hands  and  blackened  with  toiling, 
Bronzed  well  his  face;  his  palms  rough  and  hard. 
Strangely  he  gazed  in  the  dim,  filmy  distance, 
Gazed,  as  the  smoke  from  the  fire  curled  and  swayed, 
Rapt  was  his  look,  for  a  voice  from  the  forest 
Spoke  —  and  in  accents  disquieting  —  said: 

Come!  freeman!  cornel  to  the  swirl  of  the  river, 
Come!  where  the  wild  bison  ranges  and  roams, 
Come!  where  the  coyote  and  timber  wolves  whimper, 
Come!  where  the  prairie  dogs  build  their  rough  homes. 
Come  to  the  hills  where  the  blossoms  are  swaying, 
Come  to  the  glades  where  the  elk  shrills  his  cry, 
Come  — for  the  wild  canyon  echoes  are  saying, 
Come  —  only  come  —  climb  my  peaks  to  the  sky. 

A  thrill  shook  the  frame  of  the  woodsman  and  trapper, 
A  strange  light  of  yearning  came  to  his  eye, 
Restless  and  roving  by  nature,  —  this  wanderer, 
Shuddered  and  paled  at  the  wild,  hidden  cry; 
Trembling  he  turned  towards  the  hut  in  the  shadow, 
Shaking  he  strode  to  the  low,  darkened  door, 
Then  stopped,  —  as  sounded  the  voice  from  the  meadow, 
Mutt'ring  the  challenge  —  o'er  and  o'er. 

Come,  will  you  come,  where  the  brown  ouzel  nestles, 
Come,  where  the  waterfall  dashes  and  plays, 
Come,  where  the  spike-hofti  rollicks  and  wrestles, 
On  a  carpet  of  moss,  in  the  warm  Autumn  haze; 
The  cloud  banks  are  blowing  o'er  Leidy  and  Glenrock, 
On  Wessex  and  Cassa  the  sun  hides  its  head, 
Come,  will  you  come,  where  the  trout  leaps  in  splendor, 
Come,  only  come,  let  the  veldt  be  your  bed. 
is. 


THE   PEONTIEKSMAN 

By  the  rough,  oaken  chair  lay  the  grim,  shining  rifle, 
On  a  nail  o'er  the  fire  swung  the  curled  powder-horn, 
With  a  smiling  grimace  he  seized  on  these  weapons, 
Wild  emblems  of  conquest,  —  storm-battered  and  worn. 
"  Stay,"  whirred  the  loom,  as  it  stood  in  the  shadow, 
"  Stay,"  purred  the  cat,  as  it  lay  near  the  stove, 
"  Stay  where  the  woodbine  and  iris  are  trailing, 
Stay,  only  stay,  calm  this  spirit  to  rove." 

But,  "  come"  shrilled  the  voice  on  the  dim,  distant  prairie, 
"  Come,  where  the  Cheyennes  are  roving  and  free, 
Where  the  beavers  are  damming  the  wild,  rushing  ice  stream, 
Where  the  lean  puma  snarls  in  the  shaggy,  pine  tree. 
Come  — for  the  call  of  the  wild  is  resounding, 
From  Laramie's  peaks  rolls  the  smoke  of  the  fire. 
Lighted  by  scouts,  where  the  herds  are  abounding, 
Fattened  and  sleek,  for  the  red  man's  desire." 


Thus  came  the  call,  and  thus  trekked  the  plainsman, 
Westward,  yet  westward  his  grim  step  led  on, 
By  the  wide,  sedgy  steppes,  where  the  Platte  curled  and  whispered, 
By  the  brackish  salt  lake,  stretching  gray  'neath  the  sun, 
Where  the  purple,  red  flowers  in  clusters  lay  glist'ning, 
Where  the  wild  kestrel  whirled  o'er  the  precipice  sheer, 
He  conquered  the  wild,  while  the  grizzly  stood  list'ning, 
And  growled,  as  the  white  canvased  wagons  drew  near. 


i 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE  .  .  .,  :.\V-  .  ,.  .  .  .  .'  '  .  .  .  .  vii 

THE  FRONTIERSMAN  . .  .  ix 

DANIEL  MORGAN:  THE  FAMOUS  VIRGINIAN  RIFLEMAN,  AND  His 

ADVENTURES  WITH  THE  INDIAN  BEAR t 

JAMES  HARROD:  FOUNDER  OF  HARRODSBURG,  KENTUCKY,  AND 

FAMOUS  SCOUT  OF  THE  FRONTIER 8 

ROBERT  MCLELLAN:  PLUCKIEST  OF  THE  EARLY  PIONEERS  .  19 
COLONEL  BENJAMIN  LOGAN:  THE  INTREPID  FIGHTER  OF  THE 

KENTUCKY  FRONTIER     . 51 

GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE:  FAMOUS  LEADER  OF  THE  BORDERLAND 

OF  KENTUCKY 64 

JOHN  SLOVER:  SCOUT  UNDER  CRAWFORD  AND  HERO  OF  EXTRAOR 
DINARY  ADVENTURES      .   .    .     .  i 84 

LEWIS  WETZEL:   HEROIC  VIRGINIA  FRONTIERSMAN  AND  IMPLAC 
ABLE  ENEMY  OF  THE  REDSKINS 103 

SAMUEL  COLTER:  AND  His  WONDERFUL  RACE  FOR  LIFE  .  .122 
MESHACK  BROWNING:  THE  CELEBRATED  BEAR  HUNTER  OF  THE 

ALLEGHANIES 129 

^BILL  "  BENT:  HERO  OF  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL     .       .       .  167 

THOMAS  EDDIE:  THE  LAST  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL  TRAPPERS  .  181 
JIM  BRIDGER:  FOUNDER  OF  BRIDGER,  WYOMING,  AND  FAMOUS 

INDIAN  FIGHTER 200 

>l  OLD  BILL  "  WILLIAMS:  THE  FAMOUS  LOG  RIDER  OF  COLORADO  213 
"  BIG  FOOT  "  WALLACE:  NOTED  RANGER  ON  THE  TEXAN  FRON 
TIER   .                            223 

CAPTAIN  JACK  HAYS:  FAMOUS  TEXAN  RANGER  AND  COMMANDER 

OF  VALIANT  BORDER  FIGHTERS 257 

BILL  HAMILTON:  FAMOUS  TRAPPER,  TRADER,  AND  INDIAN  FIGHTER  279 
UNCLE  JOB  WITHERSPOON:  AND  His  EXCITING  ADVENTURES 

WITH  THE  BLACKFEET   .  *V       .              301 

HENRY  SHANE:  HEROIC  SCOUT  OF  THE  PLAINS  OF  TEXAS  .  .  314 
POOR  JERRY  LANE:  THE  LOST  TRAPPER  OF  WYOMING  .  -337 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  MOOSE 351 

RETROSPECT 355 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

DANIEL  MORGAN    .       .       .       .       •'      «       •       -       -      Frontispiece 

JAMES  HARROD        ....       .       ...       .       .       ..  8 

BATTLE  OF  FALLEN  TIMBERS 19 

"  BEGAN  TO  LUG  HIM  BACK  TO  THE  FORT  "     .       .       ...  54 

GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE 64 

JOHN  SLOVER •      •       •       •       •       •  84 

INDIANS  TORTURING  A  PRISONER 98 

"  HE  NOW  TURNED  AND  RAN  AS  FAST  AS  HE  WAS  ABLE  —  LOADING 

AS  HE  WENT"         .       .       .       .       .;      .     ,;.       .       .       .  108 
"  THERE  WAS  EVER  THE  DANGER  OF  AN  ONRUSH  BY  THE  RED 
SKINS  "      .       ...       .       .       .       ;      •-       .       •       •  J39 

"  HAD  KILLED  INNUMERABLE  BRAVES  IN  OPEN  CONFLICT  "      .          .  167 

JIM  BRTOGER    .       .       ...       .       .       .       ....  200 

"  BIG  FOOT  "  WALLACE        .      .      .      .      .      .      .      .       .  225 

"  UNCLE  BILL  "  HAMILTON  .       .       .     .»      .       .       .     >     ..  279 

AN  INDIAN  BUFFALO  HUNT 283 

A  COMANCHE  WARRIOR        .       . 33° 

"  LURED  TO  THEIR  END  BY  THE  LOW,  SOOTHING  CRY  "        .       .  354 


Famous    Frontiersmen 

AND  HEROES   OF  THE   BORDER 


DANIEL    MORGAN: 

THE  FAMOUS  VIRGINIAN  RIFLEMAN,  AND 

HIS    ADVENTURES    WITH    THE 

INDIAN    BEAR 

DANIEL  MORGAN  was  a  famous  Virginian 
rifleman.  As  a  young  man  he  enlisted  in  the 
French  and  Indian  War,  and  joined  an  army 
under  Colonel  St.  Clair,  who,  as  you  remember,  no 
doubt,  was  so  signally  defeated  by  Little  Turtle.1  The 
bravery  of  St.  Clair  sometimes  amounted  to  rashness. 
His  enemies  have  even  accused  him  of  indiscretion. 
At  any  rate,  when  camped  near  the  head  waters  of  the 
Mississippi,  on  the  plains  of  the  Chippewa,  he  placed 
his  men  near  a  dense  forest,  in  which  his  redskinned 
enemies  could  easily  pick  off  his  sentinels  without  ex 
posing  themselves,  in  the  least,  to  danger  from  return 
fire. 

For  five  nights  his  army  lay  in  this  position,  and 
for  five  nights  a  sentinefwas  posted  near  the  gloomy 
borders  of  the  forest.  Alas !  Every  man  who  had  held 
the  place  was  shot.  This  struck  terror  to  the  hearts 

loee  "  Famous  Indian  Chiefs," 
1 


2  FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

of  the  soldiers,  and,  when  a  sentinel  was  to  be  posted 
upon  the  sixth  night,  no  one  would  come  forward  to 
take  the  position,  without  a  serious  protest.  St.  Clair 
knew  that  it  was  only  throwing  away  men's  lives  to 
place  a  sentinel  in  such  an  exposed  situation,  so  he 
insisted  upon  no  one  occupying  it.  This  pleased  his 
followers  mightily.  "  Colonel,"  said  many,  "  you  are 
a  sensible  man." 

Upon  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day,  however,  a  rifle 
man  from  the  Virginia  corps  appeared  before  the  Colo 
nel's  tent.  His  name  was  Daniel  Morgan. 

"  Sir,"  he  remarked,  saluting,  "  I  feel  that  I  can 
take  charge  of  this  post.  Put  me  there  and  see  what 
I  can  do." 

St.  Clair  looked  at  him  dubiously. 

"  I  think  that  you  are  rather  rash,"  said  he.  "  But 
you  can  have  what  you  desire.  Go,  and  good  luck  to 
you,  my  son." 

Soon  afterwards,  the  new  guard  marched  up.  The 
scout  fell  in  behind,  shouldered  his  rifle,  and  went 
forward. 

"  I'll  return  safely,"  said  he,  as  he  followed  the  lead 
ing  files.  "  And,  Colonel  St.  Clair,  I  will  drink  your 
health  in  the  morning." 

The  new  guard  marched  on,  arrived  at  the  place 
which  had  been  so  fatal  to  the  sentries,  and  here 
halted.  Bidding  his  fellow  soldiers  "  Good  night," 
the  sentry  brought  his  gun  to  order  arms  and  peered 
about  him.  The  night  was  a  dark  one.  Thick  clouds 
overspread  the  heavens  and  hardly  a  star  was  to  be 
seen.  Silence  reigned,  save  for  the  beat  of  the  retir- 


DANIEL   MORGAN  3 

ing  footsteps  of  the  guard.  The  frontiersman  paced 
slowly  up  and  down,  then  stopped,  for  in  the  far  dis 
tance  came  the  cry  of  "  All  is  well !  " 

Seating  himself  upon  a  fallen  tree,  the  soldier  fell 
into  a  reverie,  but,  hark!  what  was  that?  A  low, 
rustling  sound  came  from  out  the  bushes.  He  gazed 
intently  towards  the  spot  whence  the  noise  seemed  to 
proceed,  but  he  could  see  nothing  but  the  impenetrable 
gloom  of  the  forest.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the 
strange  rustling  and  a  well-known  grunt  informed 
him  that  a  large  bear  was  approaching.  Slowly  the 
animal  came  on  —  then  quietly  sought  the  thicket  to 
the  left  of  his  position. 

At  this  particular  moment  the  clouds  drifted  away 
from  the  face  of  the  moon,  so  that  the  soldier  could 
plainly  see  the  lumbering  brute.  What  was  his  sur 
prise,  when  he  viewed  a  deer-skin  legging  and  two 
moccasined  feet  sticking  out  from  the  bottom  of  the 
animal,  where  should  have  been  two  furry  legs.  He 
could  have  shot  the  strange  beast  in  a  moment,  but 
he  did  not  know  how  many  other  quadrupeds  of  a  like 
nature  might  be  at  hand.  His  fingers  dropped  from 
his  rifle  trigger,  and,  taking  off  his  hat  and  coat,  he 
hung  them  to  the  branch  of  a  fallen  tree,  then  silently 
crept  toward  the  thicket.  Crouching  low  behind  some 
scrub  bushes,  he  heard  the  twang  of  a  low  bow-string, 
and  an  arrow,  whizzing  pa^t  his  head,  told  him  that  he 
had  guessed  correctly  when  he  supposed  that  other 
redskins  were  near  by.  A  low  murmur  of  voices  came 
from  the  bushes  on  the  right. 

The  sentry  gazed  carefully  about  him.    Pressing  the 


4  FAMOUS   FEONTIERSMEN 

brush  aside,  he  saw  the  form  of  a  man,  then  of  several 
more.  He  counted  their  numbers  and  found  that  there 
were  twelve  in  all,  some  sitting,  some  lying  full  length 
upon  the  thickly  strewn  leaves  of  the  forest.  Believ 
ing  that  the  whizzing  arrow  had  laid  the  sentinel  low, 
and,  little  thinking  that  there  was  any  one  within  hear 
ing,  they  conversed  aloud  about  their  plans  for  the 
morrow. 

"  These  men  are  few,"  said  one.  "  We  will  have 
forty  warriors  ready  in  the  evening.  We  will  shoot 
an  arrow  into  the  sentry,  and  then  will  attack  the 
camp." 

"  Ugh !  Ugh !  "  said  another.  "  It  will  be  easy  to 
overcome  these  palefaced  warriors.  This  will  be  done. 
There  are  but  a  few  men  who  come  out  with  the  sen 
try,  and  these  we  can  readily  take  care  of." 

"  Ah!  "  said  a  third.  "  How  pleasant  it  will  be  to 
see  the  palefaces  running  homeward.  It  will  be  good. 
It  will  be  good." 

Eagerly  the  sentry  scanned  these  men.  He  watched 
them  as  they  rose,  and  saw  them  draw  the  numerous 
folds  of  their  robes  about  them.  He  trembled,  as  they 
marched  off  in  single  file  through  the  forest,  in  order 
to  seek  some  distant  spot,  where  the  smoke  of  their 
fire  could  not  be  seen  by  the  whites,  and  where  they 
would  not  be  followed,  when  the  supposedly  dead 
sentry  was  found  by  his  comrades.  Then,  rising  from 
his  crouching  position,  the  frontiersman  returned  to 
his  post.  His  hat  had  an  arrow  in  it,  and  his  coat  was 
pierced  by  two  of  them. 

"  By  George,"  said  he,  "  I  was  lucky  to  escape." 


DANIEL    MORGAN  5 

Wrapping  himself  in  his  long  coat,  he  returned  imme 
diately  to  the  camp,  and,  without  delay,  demanded  to 
speak  to  Colonel  St.  Clair. 

"  I  have  something  very  important  to  say  to  Colonel 
St.  Clair,"  said  he,  to  the  guard  before  his  tent. 

When  the  soldier  reported  his  request,  his  com 
manding  officer  ordered  that  he  be  immediately  ad 
mitted  to  his  presence. 

"  You  have  done  well,"  remarked  St.  Clair,  after 
hearing  his  story.  "  Furthermore,  I  commission  you 
Lieutenant  of  the  Virginia  corps,  to  take  the  place  of 
your  unfortunate  comrade,  Lieutenant  Phipps,  who 
died  three  nights  ago.  You  must  be  ready  to-morrow 
evening,  with  a  picket  guard,  to  march  to  the  fatal 
outpost,  there  to  place  your  hat  and  coat  upon  the 
branches,  and  then  to  lie  in  ambush  for  the  intruders." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  carry  out  your  commands,"  re 
plied  the  newly  appointed  Lieutenant,  smiling  broadly. 

According  to  order  given  out  by  Colonel  St.  Clair, 
a  detachment  of  forty  riflemen,  with  Lieutenant  Mor 
gan  at  their  head,  marched  from  the  camp  at  half-past 
seven  on  the  following  evening.  Putting  up  a  couple 
of  stakes,  they  arranged  a  hat  and  coat  upon  them  so 
as  to  resemble  the  appearance  of  a  soldier  standing  on 
guard,  and  then  stole  silently  away  in  order  to  hide 
in  the  bushes. 

For  an  hour  they  lay  quiet,  intently  listening  for  the 
approach  of  the  redskins.  The  night  was  cold  and 
still.  A  full  moon  shed  its  lustrous  radiance  over  field 
and  forest.  Snow  was  upon  the  ground,  and  becom 
ing  chilled  by  contact  with  the  cold  sprinkling  of  fleecy 


6  FAMOUS   FEONTIERSMEN 

white,  some  of  the  soldiers  began  to  grumble  quite 
audibly. 

"  Silence !  "  whispered  Lieutenant  Morgan.  "  I 
hear  the  rustling  of  leaves,  and  it  is  evident  that  either 
a  bear,  or  some  red  men  are  approaching." 

All  crouched  low  and  watched  intently.  Presently 
a  large,  brown  bear  emerged  from  the  thicket  and 
passed  near  the  ambush. 

"  Hist !  "  whispered  a  soldier.    "  Look  at  his  feet!  " 

Sure  enough,  moccasins  were  sticking  out  below. 
The  bear  reconnoitered ;  saw  the  sentinel  standing  at 
his  post ;  retired  into  the  forest  for  a  few  paces ;  then 
rose  and  let  fly  an  arrow  which  brought  the  make- 
believe  sentinel  to  the  ground  with  a  crash.  The  ani 
mal  stood  there  looking  at  his  handiwork  with  inter 
est.  So  impatient  were  the  Virginians  to  avenge  the 
death  of  their  comrades,  that  they  could  scarcely  wait 
until  the  Lieutenant  gave  the  word  to  fire.  Then, 
rising  in  a  body,  they  let  drive  a  volley.  The  bear 
dropped  instantly  to  the  snow-covered  ground,  and  a 
number  of  red  warriors,  who  had  crept  up  behind  him, 
were  also  dispatched.  Quickly  loading,  the  frontiers 
men  made  a  dash  into  the  forest,  again  fired,  and 
killed,  or  wounded,  several  more  of  the  enemy.  They 
then  marched  back  to  camp,  highly  pleased  and  elated 
at  their  easy  victory.  Ten  savages  had  fallen  before 
the  deadly  aim  of  their  rifles,  and  there  was  wailing 
and  lamentation  among  the  women  of  the  Chippewa 
nation. 

But  how  about  Lieutenant  Morgan  ? 

This  doughty  soldier  rose  to  be  a  captain,  and,  at 


DANIEL   MORGAN  7 

the  termination  of  the  French  and  Indian  campaign, 
returned  to  his  home,  near  Winchester,  Virginia, 
where  he  lived  on  his  farm  until  the  breaking  out  of 
the  War  of  the  Revolution.  Then,  at  the  head  of  a 
corps  of  Virginian  riflemen,  he  attained  great  fame 
and  renown ;  was  present  at  many  an  important  battle, 
and  rendered  signal  service  to  the  American  cause. 
But  he  never  forgot  the  bear  who  walked  with  the 
feet  of  a  man. 


JAMES  HARROD: 

FOUNDER  OF  HARRODSBURG 

KENTUCKY,  AND  FAMOUS  SCOUT  OF  THE 

FRONTIER 

DANIEL  BOONE  — the  founder  of  Kentucky 
—  was  revered,  respected,  and  admired  by  the 
early  pioneers.  He  was,  as  you  know,  a  man 
of  much  skill  in  woodcraft,  and  was  also  an  unex 
celled  rifle  shot.  Another  early  settler  of  this  border 
state  was  James  Harrod,  of  whom  we  have  but  little 
record,  for  he  was  a  lover  of  solitude  and  his  expedi 
tions  into  .the  wilderness  were  usually  taken  alone. 
Furthermore,  he  was  the  most  modest  of  men  and 
never  wrote  or  spoke  of  his  own  deeds.  A  little 
knowledge  of  his  adventures,  however,  has  come  down 
to  us,  and  we  are  sure  that  he  was  one  of  the  bravest 
of  the  brave.  To  a  noble  courage  was  added  a  great 
gentleness  of  manner  which,  in  another,  might  almost 
be  called  effeminacy. 

What  drove  this  valiant  soul  into  the  wilderness  of 
Kentucky?  What  spirit  moved  his  restless  footsteps 
into  the  virgin  forest  ?  How  came  he  to  penetrate  into 
that  "  dark  and  bloody  ground  ?  "  Who  knows  ?  His 
was  the  restless  spirit  and  his  was  the  soul  which  loved 

8 


JAMES    HARROD. 


JAMES   HAEEOD  9 

the  vast  solitude  of  the  wildwood ;  for  —  even  earlier 
than  Daniel  Boone  —  we  know  that  this  sinewy  fron 
tiersman  built  a  log  cabin  for  himself  at  the  present 
site  of  Harrodsburg.  When  Boone  went  to  the  as 
sistance  of  the  surveyors  of  Lord  Dunmore,  who  were 
surrounded  by  the  red  men,  Harrod  returned  to  Vir 
ginia  and  joined  a  force  of  whites  sent  to  repel  the 
Shawnees  and  other  savages  at  Point  Pleasant  on  the 
Great  Kanawha.  He  was  under  General  Lewis  in  the 
bloody  affair,  and  then,  having  done  his  duty  by  his 
white  brethren,  returned  to  Kentucky  in  order  to  make 
Harrodsburg  a  place  of  refuge  for  the  immigrants, 
who  were  beginning  to  turn  their  steps  towards  the 
setting  sun. 

One  day,  as  he  sat  before  his  cabin  busily  engaged 
in  cleaning  his  rifle,  a  man  ran  up  to  him.  He  was 
plainly  excited,  and  was  breathing  heavily,  as  if  labor 
ing  under  a  severe  mental  strain. 

"  Bad  news,  comrade ! "  said  he,  when  he  had 
partly  recovered  his  breath.  "  Jim  Bailey's  cabin  has 
been  attacked  by  the  red  men  and  no  one  is  alive  to  tell 
the  tale,  save  his  two  daughters,  who  have  been  car 
ried  away  by  the  savages  in  the  direction  of  their  vil 
lage.  Unless  a  party  hurries  immediately  in  pursuit, 
they  will  be  taken  to  the  tribe  and  will  be  never  seen 
again.  Their  fate  will  not  be  a  pleasant  one." 

The  frontiersman  jumped  to  his  feet  immediately. 

"  I  will  go  at  once,"  said  he.  "  You  warn  the  other 
settlers  and  send  all  that  you  can  after  me.  Now,  there 
is  no  time  to  be  lost!  " 

Seizing  his  powder-horn  and  pouch  of  bullets,  he 


10         FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

was  soon  speeding  through  the  forest.  He  knew  well 
where  the  cabin  lay,  and,  as  he  burst  through  the  tan 
gled  woodland,  saw  that  a  terrific  fight  had  occurred 
around  the  little  log  fortress  in  the  wilderness.  Smoke 
still  came  from  the  chimney.  The  windows  were  bat 
tered  and  broken.  The  door  was  a  splintered  wreck. 
And,  as  he  gazed  inside,  he  saw  the  evil  work  of  the 
vindictive  redskins.  The  tracks  of  the  murderers  were 
plain,  for  a  rain  had  fallen  and  it  was  evident  that 
eight  or  ten  had  been  in  the  party. 

"  Curses  upon  you,  Shawnees !  "  cried  Harrod,  in 
loud  tones.  "  You  will  pay  for  this  ere  many  days 
are  o'er!" 

It  was  near  midday.  The  scout  took  one  lingering 
glance  at  the  wreckage  of  that  once  peaceful  home, 
then  turned  and  followed  the  trail  of  the  savages.  It 
was  clear,  and  he  saw  —  after  an  hour's  travel  —  that 
the  Indians  had  separated.  One  half  had  gone  toward 
the  Indian  towns.  One  half  had  sheered  off  toward 
a  settlement,  about  fifteen  miles  below.  Presuming 
that  the  Indians  would  take  the  girls  to  the  settlement 
by  the  nearest  route,  he  followed  the  first  trail,  and, 
as  night  came  on,  was  delighted  to  see  a  camp-fire 
before  him,  in  the  dense  woodland. 

With  true  woodsman's  cunning,  the  scout  dropped 
to  his  knees  and  cautiously  wormed  a  way  toward 
the  glimmering  embers.  Peeping  over  a  fallen  log, 
he  saw  that  there  were  five  Indians  lying  near  the 
blaze.  His  heart  now  beat  tumultuously  —  for  there, 
also,  were  the  two  captive  girls.  They  were  bound 
with  deer  thongs,  and,  even  at  that  distance,  he  could 


JAMES   HARROD  11 

mark  the  misery  expressed  upon  their  pale  counte 
nances. 

It  was  too  early  for  the  lone  woodsman  to  attempt 
to  make  an  attack.  With  the  courage  of  a  lion  he  in 
tended  to  do  this  single-handed.  You  think  it  a  haz 
ardous  adventure,  no  doubt?  Wait,  and  see  how  he 
fared ! 

Creeping  to  a  large  oak,  he  put  his  back  against  it 
and  went  to  sleep  "  with  one  eye  open,"  as  the  hunters 
call  it.  He  slumbered  peacefully  until  about  twelve 
o'clock  —  then  rose  and  again  wriggled  towards  the 
fire  in  order  to  see  how  matters  stood.  All  the 
savages  were  lying  down,  save  one,  who  seemed  to 
be  keeping  guard  over  the  others.  But  even  he 
was  sleepy.  His  head  nodded  drowsily  upon  his 
breast. 

The  scout  watched  him  intently,  while  his  right 
hand  grasped  his  tomahawk.  The  savage  seated  him 
self,  then  got  up,  yawned,  and  lay  down  by  the  side 
of  his  companions.  Harrod  saw  his  opportunity,  and, 
leaning  his  rifle  against  a  tree,  began  to  crawl  towards 
the  camp. 

You  can  be  well  assured  that  the  seasoned  frontiers 
man  made  little  noise  as  he  did  so.  But  he  was  sud 
denly  forced  to  stop.  The  Indian  sentinel  arose, 
stretched  himself,  and  walked  towards  the  place  where 
the  scout  lay  prostrate  typon  some  green  moss.  Every 
nerve  in  the  Kentuckian  was  a-quiver.  He  was  all 
prepared  to  make  one  desperate  leap  upon  the  foe. 
But,  as  he  was  about  to  spring  upward,  the  Indian 
turned  back  and  lay  down. 


12         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

The  avenger  of  Jim  Bailey's  family  now  began  to 
crawl  towards  the  camp.  Luck  was  not  with  him.  A 
stick  snapped  beneath  his  left  hand,  and,  as  it  cracked 
like  the  report  of  a  pistol,  the  Shawnee  sentinel  sprang 
hastily  to  his  feet.  Looking  furtively  around,  he 
stirred  the  fire  and  squatted  down  beside  it.  Harrod, 
meanwhile,  crouched  close  to  the  moist  earth,  praying 
—  beneath  his  breath  —  that  the  Indian  would  again 
lie  down.  Minute  after  minute  passed.  The  redskin 
still  stirred  the  embers  with  a  long  twig,  and,  fearing 
that  day  would  break  before  he  would  accomplish  his 
object,  the  bold  pioneer  began  to  retreat  towards  the 
tree  where  he  had  left  his  rifle.  As  he  wormed  his 
way  backwards,  he  saw  the  guard  stretch  himself  out 
by  the  side  of  his  companions.  The  scout  breathed 
easier. 

Reaching  the  tree  where  his  rifle  stood,  he  took  it 
up,  and  again  began  his  cautious  wriggle  towards  the 
fire.  This  time  luck  was  with  him,  for  he  crept  right 
up  to  the  side  of  the  sleeping  savages. 

Lest  you  think  I  am  exaggerating  this  affair,  I  will 
here  quote  an  authentic  historian.  He  says :  "  To 
draw  his  tomahawk  and  brain  two  of  the  sleeping  In 
dians  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment,  and,  as  he  was 
about  to  strike  the  third  one,  the  handle  turned  in  his 
fingers,  and  the  savage  received  the  blow  on  the  side 
instead  of  the  centre  of  his  head.  He  awoke  with  a 
yell.  It  was  his  last.  Grasping  his  weapon  more 
firmly,  the  frontiersman  struck  the  fellow  a  surer 
blow  and  dropped  him  lifeless  to  the  ground.  With 
a  terrific  whoop  he  now  sprang  for  his  rifle  just  as 


JAMES   HARROD  13 

the  two  other  Indians  rose  to  escape,  and,  firing  ha 
stily,  one  of  them  fell  to  rise  no  more/* 

The  other  red  man  scampered  into  the  forest  as 
fast  as  his  sinewy  legs  could  carry  him.  The  scout 
was  after  him  as  hard  as  he,  too,  could  go,  but  the 
savage  could  run  like  a  deer  and  proved  to  be  too  fleet 
for  the  trapper.  Harrod  stopped,  and,  taking  careful 
aim,  threw  his  tomahawk  at  his  enemy.  So  sure  was 
his  missile  hurled  that  it  lopped  off  one  of  the  Indian's 
ears  and  cut  a  deep  gash  in  his  cheek.  In  spite  of  the 
grievous  wound  the  savage  did  not  halt,  but  bounded 
away  like  a  Virginian  deer.  Harrod  stood  for  a 
while,  laughing  at  the  running  brave,  then  slowly 
turned  and  made  his  way  back  to  camp.  Here  he 
found  the  two  captive  girls,  crying  bitterly.  He  un 
bound  them,  received  their  joyous  thanks,  was  em 
braced  by  both;  and  then  took  them  upon  the  trail 
to  the  settlement.  Imagine  the  joy  of  the  frontiers 
men  when  they  saw  them  return,  and,  although  a  party 
had  started  out  to  track  the  Indians,  they  had  only 
travelled  about  three  miles  from  Harrodsburg  when 
they  met  the  triumphant  pioneer. 

"Hurrah!  Hurrah  for  Harrod!"  they  shouted. 
"  You  are  indeed  a  worthy  scout !  Hurrah !  Hur 
rah!" 

The  two  girls  were  carried  upon  the  men's  shoulders 
into  camp,  and  there  we^e  given  a  feast  of  welcome. 
They  were  embraced  by  the  women,  hugged  by  the 
children,  and  were  presented  with  a  wreath  of  flowers 
by  the  men.  As  for  Harrod,  his  modesty  forbade  him 
taking  part  in  the  ceremonies,  and,  leaving  the  next 


14         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

day  upon  a  hunting  excursion,  he  was  not  heard  or 
seen  until  a  week  later,  when  he  returned  with  several 
deer  and  bear  skins. 

Shortly  after  this  thrilling  adventure  the  scout  went 
into  the  forest  in  search  of  game.  Not  far  from  the 
settlement  he  spied  a  fat  deer.  He  drew  a  careful 
bead  on  him,  and  was  just  about  to  raise  his  rifle  for 
a  shot  when  he  heard  the  buck  whistle  and  saw  him 
raise  his  head.  He  knew  from  this  that  the  forest 
rover  had  scented  some  hidden  foe,  and,  sure  that  it 
was  not  himself  that  the  animal  smelled  —  as  the  wind 
was  blowing  from  the  deer  toward  him  —  he  crouched 
down  to  await  developments.  He  had  not  long  to 
remain  in  this  position.  In  a  few  moments  he  heard 
the  crack  of  a  rifle  and  saw  the  noble  buck  leap  high 
into  the  air.  He  fell  prone  upon  his  side,  and,  as  he 
lay  quivering  in  the  grass,  three  Indians  came  up  and 
began  to  skin  him.  They  were  laughing  and  talking 
in  loud  tones. 

"  Ah  ha,"  said  the  scout  to  himself,  "  they  are  skin 
ning  my  game  for  me.  Let  them  go  on." 

He  crouched  low  in  the  brush,  and  when  they  had 
about  completed  this  operation  he  rose,  took  careful 
aim,  and  killed  the  one  he  judged  to  be  the  leader  of 
the  party.  Believing  that  he  was  too  well  concealed 
to  be  detected,  he  crouched  behind  the  brush,  and, 
turning  his  back,  reloaded  his  rifle  in  that  position. 
The  redskins,  meanwhile,  climbed  into  some  trees,  but 
one  of  them  exposed  himself  to  the  keen  view  of  the 
scout.  Harrod  took  careful  aim,  and,  at  the  dis 
charge  of  his  flint-lock,  the  savage  tumbled  to  the 


JAMES   HAEEOD  15 

ground.  The  third  Indian  now  saw  where  he  was 
concealed,  and,  leaping  to  the  ground,  made  at  him 
with  rifle  raised.  Harrod  put  his  cap  upon  a  stick 
and  poked  it  above  the  brush.  The  redskin  fired, 
thinking  that  he  was  aiming  at  the  trapper,  and,  as  his 
bullet  whistled  by  the  head  of  the  man  of  the  frontier, 
the  scout  knew  that  the  advantage  was  now  on  his  side. 
Drawing  his  tomahawk,  he  leaped  from  his  hiding 
place,  and,  in  a  few  bounds,  had  swung  his  weapon 
above  the  head  of  the  now  terrified  brave.  In  a  second 
it  was  all  over  with  the  red  man. 

The  scout  sat  down  and  laughed  loudly,  for  he  had 
won  a  glorious  victory.  Then  he  rose,  gathered  up 
the  arms  of  his  enemies,  loaded  himself  with  deer 
meat,  and  made  his  way  back  to  his  cabin.  He  was 
well  satisfied  with  the  day's  work. 

This  was  but  one  of  many  adventures.  He  con 
tinued  upon  his  solitary  hunts,  and,  while  searching  for 
game,  often  was  surrounded  by  roving  Shawnees,  so 
that  his  life  was  in  constant  danger. 

A  month  after  the  first  affair  he  was  chasing  some 
deer  on  Cedar  Run  —  a  tributary  of  a  stream  now 
named  Harrod's  Creek,  in  honor  of  this  intrepid  pio 
neer.  He  had  shot  a  fat  buck  and  was  bending  over 
him  in  order  to  get  the  choicest  bit  of  venison,  when 
a  bullet  whizzed  suddenly  by  his  ear.  A  loud  and 
triumphant  yell  soundedjn  the  forest  at  the  same  in 
stant,  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  that  he  was  confronted 
by  a  dozen  red  men.  His  only  safety  was  in  flight. 

Scout  Harrod  was  no  mean  runner.  Inured  to 
hardship,  and  with  muscles  of  steel?  he  bounded  away 


16         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

like  one  of  the  very  deer  which  he  had  just  dispatched. 
The  Indians  were  in  hot  pursuit.  As  they  came  on, 
their  leader  cried,  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

"  Come  on !  Here  is  the  lone  panther  —  Come  on ! 
Come  on ! " 

So  hotly  did  they  push  the  running  trapper  that 
Harrod  did  not  keep  a  proper  lookout  for  what  was 
in  front  of  him.  To  his  dismay,  he  found  that  he 
almost  ran  into  a  party  of  savages  coming  up  to  join 
the  others.  What  was  he  to  do  ?  In  a  moment  he  had 
made  up  his  mind. 

Dashing  right  up  to  the  oncoming  braves  he  began 
to  yell  at  the  top  of  his  lungs :  "  Come  on,  boys  —  here 
they  are  —  Come  on !  Come !  "  He  then  followed 
this  with  an  exultant  whoop. 

The  Shawnees  could  not  see  their  friends,  —  the 
pursuers.  They  were  therefore  of  the  opinion  that 
this  was  a  war  party  of  whites,  in  considerable  num 
bers,  which  is  just  what  Harrod  wished  them  to  be 
lieve.  Those  in  front  became  panic  stricken,  and 
turned  without  firing  a  shot.  Those  in  the  rear  fol 
lowed,  while  Harrod  —  racing  after  them  —  struck 
two  to  the  earth  with  his  tomahawk.  One  was  a  cele 
brated  Shawnee  chief,  called  Turkey  Head,  who  was 
noted  for  his  cruelty  to  the  unlucky  settlers  who  fell 
into  his  hands. 

The  scout  kept  on,  plunged  into  a  ravine,  and  seated 
himself  in  some  thick  brush.  Peeping  through  the 
leaves,  he  saw  his  pursuers  go  on  in  full  cry.  Their 
wild  yelping  finally  died  out  in  the  distance,  and,  turn 
ing  around,  the  famous  woodsman  retraced  his  steps 


JAMES   HARROD  17 

towards  the  settlement.  He  arrived  there  in  due  time, 
much  overjoyed  to  have  thus  safely  escaped  from  his 
vindictive  enemies. 

This  was  certainly  a  narrow  escape,  but  another 
adventure  —  some  days  later  —  was  about  as  thrilling 
as  the  last. 

While  at  Harrodsburg  he  learned  that  a  marauding 
expedition  was  about  to  start  for  the  settlements,  led 
by  a  famous  warrior  called  Turtle  Heart.  He  must 
stop  it  if  he  could,  but,  should  he  know  their  plans  it 
would  be  far  easier  to  head  off.  the  wild  band,  which 
would  fall  upon  the  log  houses  of  the  pioneers  like  a 
cloud  of  fire. 

The  scout  set  off  alone  in  order  to  visit  the  Indian 
town,  and,  reaching  it  about  noon,  secreted  himself 
upon  an  eminence  from  which  he  could  watch  the 
gathering  savages;  Here  he  lay  until  nightfall,  then 
—  carefully  hiding  his  gun  —  stole  noiselessly  into  the 
town  and  approached  the  council  house.  Worming 
his  way  up  to  it,  he  crouched  near  a  hole  —  looked 
through  —  and  saw  many  of  the  chiefs  in  close  con 
sultation. 

"  We  will  attack  in  two  days,"  said  one  big,  fierce- 
looking  fellow.  "  The  palefaces  shall  not  possess  the 
land  given  to  us  by  the  Great  Father." 

"Ugh!  Ugh!"  uttered  several.  "The  palefaces 
must  go  home  to  the  lan^l  of  the  rising  sun !  " 

This  was  enough  for  trie  scout,  and,  rising,  he  began 
to  beat  a  retreat.  Suddenly  he  started  back,  for  be 
fore  him  stood  a  giant  redskin  who  seized  him  by  the 
shoulder.  Harrod  saw  that  he  was  about  to  give  a 


18         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

whoop  of  alarm.  There  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 
Catching  the  warrior  fiercely  by  the  throat,  the  pio 
neer  stunned  him  by  a  terrific  blow  of  the  fist.  So 
strong  was  he  that  he  broke  the  neck  of  the  brave, 
and,  without  waiting  an  instant,  bounded  forth  into 
the  darkness.  A  single  cry,  or  even  the  sound  of  a 
struggle,  would  have  brought  a  hundred  infuriated 
savages  to  the  scene.  His  nerve  and  gigantic  strength 
had  saved  him  from  an  awful  death. 

Not  many  weeks  after  this  affair  he  married  a 
young  and  beautiful  girl,  was  given  a  Colonel's  com 
mission  for  his  many  services  upon  the  frontier,  and 
retired  to  the  peace  and  seclusion  of  a  small  log  hut 
near  the  town  which  he  had  founded.  But  his  charm 
ing  wife  could  not  prevent  his  long  and  solitary  excur 
sions  into  the  wilderness,  where  were  deer,  bear,  wild 
turkeys,  and  lurking  redskins.  One  day  he  went  upon 
one  of  these  hazardous  trips,  and  from  it  he  never 
returned.  Parties  of  friendly  pioneers  scoured  the 
woods  in  every  direction,  but  he  had  "  gone  on  and 
had  left  no  sign."  No  trace  of  this  gallant  scout  was 
ever  found  —  no  word  of  him  ever  came  from  woods 
man  or  savage.  Whether  he  met  his  end  in  manly 
combat,  or  whether  he  was  tortured  at  the  stake,  no 
tongue  could  tell.  His  fate  is  wrapped  in  impenetra 
ble  mystery,  and  the  silence  of  the  forest  broods  over 
the  spirit  of  James  Harrod;  frontiersman,  pioneer, 
and  hardy  woodland  adventurer. 


BATTLE    OF    FALLEN    TIMBERS. 


ROBERT    McLELLAN: 
PLUCKIEST    OF   THE    EARLY    PIONEERS 

WHEN  "  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne  was  furiously 
battling  with  Little  Turtle  at  Fallen  Tim 
bers,  a  daring  adventurer  was  with  him  who 
was  subsequently  to  play  a  most  important  part  in  the 
exploration  of  the  then  unconquered  and  unexplored 
West.  Hardy,  utterly  fearless,  and  possessed  of  won 
derful  agility,  —  such  was  Robert  McLellan,  one  of 
the  most  noted  scouts  that  ever  operated  upon  the 
border,  and  a  rifleman  whose  aim  was  both  quick 
and  marvellously  true. 

In  the  summer  of  1794  the  celebrated  "  Mad  An 
thony  "  was  pushing  his  way  into  the  Indian  country 
and  was  most  desirous  of  securing  a  red  prisoner, 
so  that  he  could  learn  the  force  and  strength  of  his 
savage  opponents.  Calling  McLellan  to  him,  he  said : 

"  Bob,  I  wish  you  to  take  two  trusty  companions 
—  Miller  and  Wells  will  do  —  and  leave  to-night  for 
the  Shawnee  country.  Secure  a  prisoner,  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  return  to  camp  with  the  fellow  alive, 
for  I  am  extremely  anxious  to  get  information  in 
regard  to  the  whereaboufs  of  the  large  force  of  red 
skins  which  I  know  to  be  in  my  front." 

McLellan  was  delighted. 

"  All  right,  Captain,"  he  replied  with  enthusiasm. 

19 


20         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  You  leave  the  matter  to  me  and  I  will  guarantee 
that  I  and  my  friends  will  return  with  the  desired 
captive.  Only  give  us  time  and  we  will  deliver  the 
man  of  the  woods,  right  side  up  and  with  care." 

The  General  laughed. 

"  Very  good,"  said  he.  "  Go  in,  now,  and  win 
out." 

Next  morning  McLellan  and  his  two  companions 
started  forth  with  confidence  and  were  soon  far  in 
the  hostile  country,  where  many  prints  of  moccasined 
feet  warned  them  that  the  savages  were  in  the  vicinity. 
One  day  they  followed  a  fresh  trail,  and,  upon  peering 
around  a  projecting  clump  of  bushes,  saw  three  sav 
ages  sitting  upon  a  log  near  a  great  fire,  at  which  they 
were  cooking  some  venison.  They  crawled  softly 
towards  them,  and  decided,  in  a  whispered  consulta 
tion,  that  Wells  should  shoot  the  redskin  upon  the  left ; 
Miller,  the  one  upon  the  right;  and  that  McLellan, 
leaving  his  rifle  against  a  tree,  should  run  the  other 
fellow  down  and  capture  him. 

At  the  given  signal  the  rifles  spoke  in  unison,  and 
the  two  redskins  who  had  been  marked,  fell  prostrate 
to  the  earth;  for  both  of  the  pioneers  could  hit  the 
eye  of  a  squirrel  at  fifty  yards.  The  one  in  the  cen 
tre  leaped  swiftly  to  his  feet,  and,  darting  through 
the  thicket,  was  soon  bounding  away  to  safety.  But 
McLellan  was  after  him  in  a  jiffy,  and  the  redskin 
realized  that  he  was  running  away  from  one  of  the 
speediest  frontiersmen  in  all  Ohio.  On,  on,  they 
rushed,  but,  seeing  that  he  was  being  rapidly  over 
taken,  the  savage  turned  in  his  course,  headed  for  the 


ROBERT   McLELLAN  21 

stream,  and,  with  one  furtive  glance  at  the  oncoming 
man  in  buckskin,  leaped  from  the  high  bank  into  the 
eddying  current. 

Raising  his  tomahawk  in  his  right  hand,  the  trap 
per  made  the  venturesome  leap  with  quite  as  much 
readiness  as  his  opponent,  and  landed  with  a  resound 
ing  splash.  The  water  was  very  shallow  in  this  spot. 
To  his  disgust,  he  found  himself  stuck  up  to  the  waist 
in  the  heavy  mud.  The  redskin,  too,  was  mired,  but, 
brandishing  a  long  knife  aloft,  now  endeavored  to 
strike  it  into  McLellan's  body. 

He  was  dealing  with  a  crafty  antagonist  who  had 
parried  many  a  knife-thrust  before,  and,  quick  as  a 
flash,  the  pioneer  grabbed  the  right  arm  of  the  Shaw- 
nee.  In  an  instant  his  tomahawk  was  raised  as  if 
to  brain  the  red  man,  who  cried,  "  Ugh !  Ugh !  Pale 
face,  you  too  strong.  I  surrender." 

In  a  moment  more  the  other  two  pioneers  had 
reached  the  bank,  and,  leaning  over  the  edge,  pulled 
both  savage  and  frontiersman  out  of  the  mud.  Each 
was  vigorously  washed.  To  the  surprise  of  all,  the 
redskin  was  discovered  to  be  a  white  man ;  the  brother 
of  Trapper  Miller,  himself,  who  had  been  captured  by 
the  savages  when  young,  and  had  preferred  to  remain 
with  them,  although  his  kinsman  had  early  left  and 
had  returned  to  his  own  people.  "Ugh!  Ugh!"  he 
muttered.  "  I  hate  all  of  ^ou." 

In  spite  of  his  protestations  he  was  taken  to  the 
headquarters  of  "Mad  Anthony;"  was  confined  to 
the  guard-house;  and  was  questioned  very  closely  in 
regard  to  the  numbers  of  his  Shawnee  allies.  He  was 


22         FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

extremely  moody  and  resisted  all  attempts  at  con 
ciliation,  even  from  his  brother,  but  at  last  some  mem 
ory  of  his  former  relatives  seemed  to  return ;  he  began 
to  grow  more  amiable;  and,  joining  the  company 
captained  by  a  noted  Ranger,  served  in  the  ranks  of 
the  whites  against  the  people  of  his  adoption. 

So  much  for  the  ability  to  run,  which  was  exhibited 
by  this  celebrated  woodsman.  Marvellous  feats  of 
strength  and  agility  are  also  told  of  McLellan. 
Amongst  other  stories,  it  is  related  that  one  day,  in 
Lexington,  Kentucky,  a  yoke  of  oxen  blocked  the  nar 
row  street  down  which  he  was  going,  so  that  it  was 
impossible  to  pass  on  either  side.  Instead  of  turning 
out  of  the  way,  or  waiting  for  the  team  to  move  on, 
the  famous  man  of  the  frontier  made  a  few  rapid 
bounds,  and  —  with  a  mighty  spring  —  cleared  both 
of  the  oxen  with  the  greatest  possible  ease. 

Another  yarn  is  also  narrated  concerning  his  won 
derful  ability  to  jump,  for  it  is  said  that  he  was 
excelled  only  by  one  William  Kennan,  a  Kentuckian, 
and  noted  scout  of  the  border.  It  is  currently  re 
ported,  and  a  historian  of  the  period  quotes  two  unim 
peachable  witnesses  to  back  his  statement,  that  at  a 
trial  of  strength  and  agility  with  several  other  scouts, 
McLellan  was  asked  if  he  could  leap  over  a  covered 
wagon. 

"  I  feel  like  a  colt,"  he  is  said  to  have  replied,  "  and, 
if  you  will  but  watch  me,  I  am  sure  that  I  can  clear 
this  obstacle.  Now,  boys,  look  at  me !  " 

With  a  run,  a  short  step,  and  a  tremendous  spring, 
the  trapper  shot  into  the  air,  and  —  to  the  astonish- 


ROBERT   McLELLAN  23 

ment  of  all  —  lighted  softly  upon  the  ground,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wagon.  He  had  leaped  over  an  ob 
stacle  at  least  eight  and  a  half  feet  high,  is  reported 
by  an  old  chronicler  of  these  early  days,  but  this  is 
hardly  possible  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  world's 
record  for  the  high  jump  is  but  six  feet  nine  inches. 
At  any  rate,  he  had  made  an  extraordinary  perform 
ance. 

In  the  year  1806,  the  famous  adventurer  Meri- 
wether  Clark  met  Robert  McLellan  ascending  the 
swift  and  muddy  waters  of  the  Missouri  in  a  canoe. 
Clark  was  returning  from  his  long  and  dangerous 
expedition  up  the  Mississippi  and  to  the  Pacific  coast, 
which  he  had  taken  with  Lewis  ("the  undaunted 
one").  Accompanying  the  valiant  McLellan  were 
numerous  companions;  all  of  the  same  hardy  stamp 
as  their  leader,  and  all  bent  upon  trading  with  the 
redskins. 

"  Where  are  you  bound?  "  asked  Clark. 

"  To  fix  up  a  trading  post,"  answered  McLellan, 
"  where  I  can  meet  the  red  varmints  on  equal  terms, 
trade  with  'em,  and  get  rich." 

Clark  smiled  dubiously. 

"  You'll  have  a  hard  time,"  he  answered,  "  for  the 
French  and  Spanish  are  very  jealous  of  you  English. 
They  operate  mainly  from  St.  Louis,  and  are  endeav 
oring  to  monopolize  the^entire  trade  of  this  western 
country." 

"  Well,"  answered  McLellan,  with  some  show  of 
anger,  "  I  intend  to  hold  this  place  against  all  the 
frog  and  garlic  eaters  in  creation.  Let  them  try  to 


24         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

force  out  Robert  McLellan,  an'  there'll  be  as  tough 
a  fight  as  any  man  ever  looked  for." 

From  his  former  acquaintance  with  this  trapper, 
Clark  fully  believed  that  any  attempt  on  the  part  of 
the  rival  traders  to  drive  him  from  the  ground  would 
certainly  result  in  a  sharp  and  bloody  battle. 

"  These  French  and  Spanish  traders,"  continued 
McLellan,  "  are  like  a  dog  who  has  had  far  too  much 
to  eat,  and  who  is  determined  not  to  allow  any  of  his 
fellows  to  share  in  the  viands  which  he  has  before 
him.  They  want  it  all." 

Clark  could  not  help  laughing. 

"  Look  out  for  these  Indians  around  here,"  said  he. 
"  They  are  treacherous  devils  and  will  betray  you 
when  you  least  expect  it." 

"  I'll  be  on  my  guard,"  McLellan  replied. 

The  explorer  now  gave  him  valuable  information 
in  connection  with  the  various  tribes  of  Indians  who 
occupied  the  ground  adjacent  to  the  banks  of  the 
river.  He  again  warned  him  of  their  treacherous 
character,  but  felt  more  at  ease  when  he  learned  that 
his  old-time  friend  had  recently  been  an  Indian  trader 
for  some  time  upon  the  frontier.  Parting  company 
at  this  point,  the  two  hardy  pioneers  were  destined 
never  to  see  each  other  again,  for  Clark  turned 
towards  the  peaceful  East,  while  McLellan  faced 
towards  the  savage  frontier,  where  lay  danger,  toil, 
and  thrilling  adventures. 

Pushing  up  the  turbid  waters  of  the  Missouri,  the 
hardy  scout  soon  saw  that  his  progress  was  not  going 
to  be  any  too  easy.  Suddenly  hundreds  of  red 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  25 

crowded  the  steep  bluffs,  which  jutted  high  above  the 
sides  of  the  narrow  stream,  and  brandished  their 
spears  and  tomahawks  in  the  faces  of  the  whites. 
There  were  but  forty  trappers,  so  it  could  be  plainly 
seen  that  it  was  wisest  to  submit  to  the  demands 
of  the  hostiles.  A  solitary  chieftain  —  splendidly 
mounted  —  now  dashed  up  to  the  bank  and  held  up 
his  hand  in  token  of  a  parley. 

"Ugh!  Ugh!  Palefaces,"  said  he,  "you  cannot 
come  further  into  our  country,  for  you  will  drive  off 
all  the  game  and  we  desire  it  for  ourselves.  But,  if 
you  want  to  build  big  house  for  trading  you  can  do 
so  down  the  stream." 

"  I  reckon  they've  got  us,  boys,"  said  McLellan. 
"  We'll  retreat  and  put  up  our  tent  lower  down.  I'll 
guarantee  that  this  hold-up  didn't  originate  with  the 
redskins.  There's  Spanish  blood  behind  this  affair, 
or  else  my  name's  not  Robert  McLellan." 

The  savages  supposed  that  the  whites  were  per 
fectly  contented  with  this  enforced  arrangement,  and 
drew  off,  leaving  a  guard  to  watch  the  traders.  But 
McLellan  was  a  past  master  in  outwitting  Indians 
and  had  fooled  too  many  in  former  years.  No  sooner 
had  the  army  of  savages  moved  well  towards  their 
villages  than  he  hastily  loaded  up  his  boat,  and,  by 
pulling  it  very  rapidly,  passed  the  cliffs,  where  the  red 
men  had  held  him  up  before.  He  soon  reached  a  spot 
suitable  for  his  establishment,  there  built  several  log 
huts,  and  prepared  to  spend  a  considerable  time  in 
peaceful  trading.  He  also  swore  to  have  revenge 
upon  a  Spaniard,  called  Manuel  Lisa,  as  soon  as  he 


26         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

could  catch  him.  For  he  learned  that  this  opposition 
trader  had  been  the  cause  of  his  detention. 

McLellan  lived  here  for  several  years  in  partner 
ship  with  an  adventurous  borderer  named  Crooks, 
who  was  an  expert  in  trading  with  the  savages.  They 
prospered,  but  soon  the  Sioux  grew  very  troublesome. 
One  day,  when  the  trappers  were  off  on  a  hunt,  the 
red  men  surrounded  the  post,  overpowered  the  trap 
pers  left  behind,  and  began  to  carry  off  all  of  the 
valuable  stores.  McLellan  returned  before  the  work 
of  spoliation  was  quite  completed  and  burst  in  among 
the  savages,  exhibiting  terrific  anger. 

"  You  curs !  "  he  shouted,  "  bring  back  everything 
that  you  have  taken  away,  or  I'll  blow  you  all  to 
pieces  with  my  cannon !  " 

The  Sioux  well  knew  the  ungovernable  temper  and 
desperate  character  of  the  infuriated  trapper. 

"  He  heap  angry !  "  said  they.    "  We  do  as  he  say." 

They  returned  much  that  had  been  taken  away,  but 
much  that  had  been  carried  to  the  Indian  village  never 
came  back,  and  the  valorous  trader  had  to  pocket  a 
loss  of  about  three  thousand  dollars.  Heaping  curses 
upon  the  heads  of  the  savages,  the  Spaniards,  the 
Frenchmen,  and  all  the  other  "  unmitigated  rascals," 
as  he  called  them,  the  outraged  trader  now  fitted  up 
his  boats  and  started  down  the  Missouri  River  to 
engage  in  business  at  a  place  where  his  competitors 
would  be  more  honest  and  honorable. 

Crooks  had  parted  company  with  McLellan  some 
time  before  this  outrage. 

"  I  can  do  better  for  myself  down  stream/'  he  had 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  27 

said.  "  The  Indians  here  are  too  troublesome,  for 
they  are  under  the  influence  of  the  rascally  Spaniard, 
Manuel  Lisa." 

What  was  the  surprise  of  the  disappointed  fron 
tiersman,  when  floating  down  the  Missouri  on  his 
way  to  St.  Louis,  to  find  his  former  partner  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Nodaway  River. 

"  I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  Crooks,"  he  cried,  and, 
rounding  to,  he  ran  his  canoe  upon  the  bank.  While 
their  men  mingled  together  the  partners  had  a  long 
conversation,  and  from  Crooks  it  was  learned  that 
the  organization,  with  which  he  was  now  connected, 
was  under  the  command  of  a  Mr.  Hunt  —  one  of  John 
Jacob  Astor's  partners  in  the  American  Fur  Company. 

"  We  are  bound  for  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia 
River,"  said  Crooks,  "  where  we  are  to  meet  another 
part  of  the  expedition  which  has  gone  by  sea.  We 
will  be  camped  here  until  spring,  so  will  you  not  join 
us?  I  am  sure  that  you  will  have  better  luck  in  tra 
ding  and  trapping  in  this  new  field." 

McLellan  could  not  withstand  the  temptation. 

"By  George,"  cried  he,  "I'll  be  with  you.  I'll 
begin  a  new  life  and  see  if  I  cannot  have  better  suc 
cess  than  here  upon  the  Missouri." 

Throwing  away  all  of  his  worldly  possessions,  ex 
cept  his  trusty  rifle,  the  unfortunate  trader  joined  the 
expedition. 

"  I  am  determined  to  begin  the  world  anew,"  he 
wrote  to  his  brother.  "  And  I  trust  that  there  will  be 
no  Spanish  traders  in  the  country  to  which  we  are 
going." 


28         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

His  hopes  were  in  vain,  for  they  heard  that  Manuel 
Lisa  was  on  the  way  to  impede  their  progress  and 
would  use  every  effort  to  pass  them  by  and  prevent 
them  from  gaining  any  trade  benefits  with  the  Indians 
above.  Sure  enough,  an  emissary  soon  appeared  from 
the  crafty  Spaniard,  holding  a  message  in  his  hand. 

"  If  you  wait  for  my  party/'  it  ran,  "  we  can  enter 
this  territory  together  and  share  the  trade.  This  will 
be  better  for  all  concerned." 

"  Don't  give  in  to  him,"  cried  McLellan,  when  he 
heard  this  message.  "  The  lying  Spaniard  can't  tell 
the  truth  if  he  tries  to,  and  cannot  be  honest  if  he 
wishes.  He'll  trick  you  after  he  has  made  you  believe 
that  he  is  your  friend." 

"  I  believe  that  you're  right,"  Hunt  answered. 
"  I'll  send  him  no  definite  reply." 

So  he  returned  a  missive  which  did  not  commit  him 
to  any  particular  course  of  procedure. 

In  a  few  days  —  it  was  the  thirty-first  of  May- 
immense  bodies  of  savages  gathered  on  the  bluffs  of 
the  river,  armed  and  painted  for  war.  They  screeched 
their  defiance  and  yelled  like  demons,  so  it  was  easy 
to  see  that  the  tricky  Manuel  had  been  influencing 
them.  Every  trapper  seized  his  arms  and  stood  ready 
for  action. 

"  Load  up  the  artillery !  "  cried  Captain  Hunt,  for 
he  saw  that  it  was  dangerous  both  to  retreat  and  to 
advance.  "  We  will  first  fire  off  some  blank  cartridges 
and  see  if  we  cannot  scare  these  pesky  varmints  into 
submission." 

In  a  few  moments  smoke  and  flame  burst  from  the 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  29 

mouths  of  the  cannon  and  the  redskins  beat  a  precip 
itate  retreat.  But  soon  they  gathered  again  and  made 
peace  signs. 

"  We  would  make  big  talk,"  cried  one  painted  brave. 
"  We  love  our  white  brothers." 

"  Load  the  cannon  with  grape  and  cannister,"  said 
McLellan  to  his  men.  "  Hunt  and  I  will  go  ashore, 
and,  if  the  redskins  show  any  signs  of  treachery, 
blaze  away." 

His  men  smiled,  as  the  daring  trapper  now  ap 
proached  the  bank,  where  the  Indians  welcomed  him 
with  much  show  of  good  will,  for  they  saw  that  the 
white  men  meant  business.  They  smoked  the  pipe 
of  peace  together,  and,  finding  that  the  trappers  were 
determined  to  advance  at  any  cost,  the  red  men  sud 
denly  evinced  a  perfect  willingness  to  allow  them  to 
go  on.  Their  hearts  were  warmed  by  the  gift  of 
several  hundredweight  of  corn,  and  —  what  they 
loved  still  more  —  a  quantity  of  tobacco.  "  Ugh ! 
Ugh !  "  grunted  the  chiefs.  "  We  love  our  white 
brothers." 

Seeing  that  the  red  men  were  now  peaceful,  Mc 
Lellan  ordered  his  own  followers  to  advance  up  the 
river,  but  he  was  soon  surprised  by  seeing  another 
band  of  Indians,  who  rode  along  the  bank  of  the 
stream  but  seemed  to  be  friendly. 

"  By  George !  "  cried  McLellan,  "  these  fellows  are 
the  same  ones  that  robbed  my  store,  when  Crooks  and 
I  were  in  partnership !  They  mean  trouble." 

But  the  children  of  the  plains  realized  that  the 
whites  were  in  force,  and,  fearing  that  they  might 


30         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

attempt  to  punish  them  for  their  former  actions, 
peacefully  accepted  several  presents  which  were  of 
fered  them.  Again  the  trappers  forced  their  way  up 
the  swift  waters,  but  again  they  were  surprised  by 
a  group  of  red  men,  who  rode  up  the  bank,  and,  in 
a  lordly  and  insolent  manner,  demanded  presents  sim 
ilar  to  those  which  had  recently  been  given  to  their 
brethren.  This  angered  the  trappers,  for  they  appre 
ciated  the  fact  that  the  redskins  wished  to  frighten 
them. 

"  You  shall  not  get  a  single  thing  from  us/'  shouted 
Hunt,  —  a  man  of  great  firmness.  "  Furthermore,  if 
you  make  any  more  insolent  demands,  I  will  treat  you 
all  as  enemies  and  turn  our  cannon  against  you." 

This  did  not  please  the  savages,  as  can  be  well 
imagined.  Vowing  vengeance,  and  shaking  their  fists 
at  the  trappers,  they  rode  off  across  the  prairie,  while 
the  whites  were  now  divided  into  two  forces;  one 
going  up  one  bank,  and  the  other  taking  the  opposite 
side.  Thus  they  proceeded  for  several  days,  until  they 
came  to  a  spot  where  the  stream  was  very  narrow  and 
was  filled  with  sand  bars.  A  vast  number  of  red 
skins  were  camped  upon  the  western  bank,  and  Hunt 
was  fearful  that  they  would  soon  attack.  He  and 
McLellan  were  in  one  of  the  boats. 

"  I  know  that  they  are  peaceful,"  said  the  former, 
"  for  their  faces  are  painted.  Row  to  the  shore !  " 

As  they  approached,  the  savages  dropped  their  bows 
and  arrows,  came  to  meet  them  joyfully,  and  proved 
to  be  a  band  of  Arickaras  who  were  at  war  with  the 
Sioux,  and  were  thus  anxious  to  have  the  white  trap- 


ROBERT   McLELLAN  31 

pers  assist  in  fighting  their  battles  for  them.  "  How ! 
How !  "  said  they.  "  We  glad  to  see  our  white  broth 
ers.  How!  How!  We  wish  to  have  sticks  which 
speak  with  the  voice  of  thunder." 

The  adventurers  looked  forward  to  rich  trade  with 
the  red  men  but  were  much  surprised  and  angered  by 
receiving  word  that  the  boat  of  Lisa  —  the  Spaniard 
—  was  rapidly  approaching. 

"  That  rascally  fellow  will  ruin  our  work !  "  cried 
McLellan,  with  considerable  heat.  ''  We  must  let  him 
know,  now,  that  we  will  stand  no  trickery  from  him. 
If  he  tampers  with  these  redskins  and  sets  them 
against  me,  I  will  let  my  rifle  do  the  work  of  venge 
ance." 

The  Indians,  meanwhile,  showed  no  disposition  to 
trade,  knowing  that  the  presence  of  a  rival  trader 
would  ensure  them  better  bargains.  Lisa  soon  arrived 
and  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  he  was  an  un 
welcome  guest.  McLellan  had  difficulty  in  restrain 
ing  himself  from  wreaking  a  just  vengeance  upon  this 
artful  "  Greaser,"  but  fearing  that  he  might  involve 
Hunt  and  his  other  friends  in  a  quarrel,  kept  his  own 
counsel.  It  was,  however,  not  for  long. 

Lisa  agreed  that  he  and  Hunt  would  go  to  the 
Indian  village  and  would  trade  there,  but  that  no 
advantage  should  be  taken  of  one  another  in  the 
transactions  with  the  wild  riders  of  the  plains.  After 
a  short  delay  they  proceeded  together  up  the  river. 
But  the  crafty  Spaniard  was  soon  up  to  his  old  tricks 
and  attempted  to  induce  a  certain  French  Canadian, 
in  Hunt's  employ,  to  leave  his  master. 


32         FAMOUS   FKONTIEKSMEN 

"  I  will  give  you  better  wages  and  treatment,"  said 
he.  "  Come  —  boy  —  be  one  of  my  followers." 

This  was  overheard  by  McLellan  and  infuriated 
him.  Seizing  a  gun,  he  gave  the  Spaniard  to  under 
stand  that  he  had  old  scores  to  settle  with  him,  and 
that  he  had  better  get  his  own  pistol  and  defend  him 
self,  for  he  was  .soon  to  be  shot  down  like  a  dog. 
"  You  thieving,  sneaking  Greaser ! "  he  shouted. 
"  Now  you  will  go  to  Kingdom  Come  in  a  hurry. 
You  should  have  been  beneath  the  sod  long 
ago." 

Fire  flashed  from  the  Spaniard's  eyes  and  he 
reached  for  his  pistol,  but,  before  he  could  draw,  the 
angered  McLellan  was  seized  by  both  Hunt  and 
Crooks,  who  took  his  weapon  away  from  him  and 
pinned  him  to  the  ground,  until  he  promised  that  he 
would  not  touch  the  Spaniard.  Lisa  himself  was  care 
ful  not  to  again  rouse  the  ire  of  the  pioneer,  and,  as 
a  result,  did  not  attempt  to  underbid  the  trade  offers 
to  the  Arickaras.  Successful  bartering  was  soon  ac 
complished,  and  Hunt's  party  set  about  the  difficult 
undertaking  of  crossing  through  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains  and  traversing  the  dry  table-land  to  the  Pacific 
coast. 

You  can  well  realize  that  this  was  a  hazardous 
undertaking,  for,  not  only  did  the  trappers  have  a 
hazy  and  undefined  conception  of  the  route  to  follow, 
but  there  was  little  water  in  certain  parts  of  this 
country,  and  a  great  scarcity  of  game  in  others. 
There  were  sixty-two  in  the  adventurous  band,  with 
eighty-two  pack-horses  to  carry  luggage,  guns,  and 


ROBERT   McLELLAN  33 

camp  equipment.  All  were  well  armed  and  were  full 
of  determination  to  succeed. 

As  -the  adventurous  little  body  of  trappers  filed 
silently  towards  the  West  —  a  few  days  later  —  the 
Indians  collected  in  order  to  bid  them  good-by. 
Many  an  old  chief  was  seen  to  shake  his  head,  as  they 
wended  their  way  towards  the  beetling  mountains, 
and  the  treacherous,  though  adventurous,  Lisa  was 
heard  to  exclaim :  "  These  men  are  fools !  They  are 
all  dead !  All  dead !  None  will  ever  return !  "  But 
these  pessimistic  remarks  did  not  seem  to  worry  the 
followers  of  Hunt  and  McLellan.  With  cheerful 
looks  and  smiling  faces  they  kept  onward  towards 
their  goal. 

Soon  they  were  in  the  glorious  Big  Horn  range 
and  were  in  the  vicinity  of  the  tepees  of  many  In 
dians,  who  were  not  slow  in  discovering  their  ap 
proach.  Contrary  to  every  expectation,  the  red  men 
greeted  them  most  hospitably,  gave  them  dried  buf 
falo  meat,  and  told  them  how  to  find  a  way  through 
the  rugged  hills  before  them.  These  were  the  Chey- 
ennes  —  a  war-like  tribe  —  which  had  its  name  from 
the  Cheyenne  River.  They  were  soon  to  be  driven 
from  their  hunting-grounds  by  the  steady,  westward 
emigration  of  the  whites,  but  were  now  rich  in  both 
ponies  and  buffalo  robes,  and  were  much  feared  by 
the  neighboring  denizens  of  the  plains :  the  Crows  and 
Ogalala  Sioux.  * 

The  pioneers  kept  on,  traded  with  the  redskins 
whom  they  met,  and  found  increased  dangers  and 
difficulties  in  their  path.  It  was  summer,  and  thou- 


34          FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

sands  of  gnats  and  mosquitoes  attacked  both  men  and 
horses,  rendering  life  miserable  and  making  it  most 
disagreeable  to  proceed.  I,  myself,  travelled  through 
this  country  in  the  summer  of  1899,  and  have  never 
seen  so  many  pests  as  here.  Swarms  of  green-headed 
horse-flies  attacked  our  pack  animals,  so  that  they 
would  sometimes  be  bloody  from  their  bites.  Often 
the  horses  would  roll  upon  the  ground  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  the  flies,  and  thus  would  dislodge  the  packs, 
which  had  taken  some  time  to  adjust.  Their  sting 
was  most  poisonous.  Mosquitoes  were  here  by  the 
millions,  and  we  had  great  difficulty  —  even  then  — 
of  getting  through  the  fallen  timber,  which  some 
times  extended  for  many  miles.  These  pioneers 
picked  their  way  through  the  forests,  forded  the 
rushing  streams,  ascended  and  descended  the  deep 
canyons,  and  finally  reached  the  headwaters  of  the 
Mad  River,  or  Snake  River,  as  it  is  called  below  its 
junction  with  Henry's  Fork. 

An  adventurous  trader  named  Henry  had  here  es 
tablished  a  trading-post,  the  year  before,  but  becom 
ing  disgusted  with  the  Indians,  who  refused  to  barter 
with  him,  had  abandoned  it.  Hunt,  McLellan,  and 
their  little  party,  reached  this  spot  on  the  eighth  day 
of  October,  where  they  stopped  to  recruit  their 
strength.  Then  they  engaged  Indians  to  look  out  for 
their  horses,  which  they  concluded  to  leave  behind 
them,  and  built  a  number  of  canoes  with  which  to 
commit  themselves  to  the  current  of  the  river.  They 
embarked,  and,  for  a  hundred  miles  found  their  prog 
ress  easy,  but  all  at  once  they  saw  to  their  dismay  that 


ROBERT   McLELLAN  35 

below  them  were  dangerous  falls  and  treacherous 
rapids.  Their  journey  was  blocked. 

It  was  impossible  to  return  to  Henry's  Fork,  where 
were  their  horses,  and  to  go  on  meant  the  destruction 
of  all  their  supplies.  What  was  there  to  do  ?  To  the 
North  was  the  Columbia  River,  but  an  unbroken  wil 
derness  lay  between.  They  must  cross  it,  trust  to  luck 
that  game  would  come  their  way,  and  that  their  rifles 
would  not  miss  it  when  found.  There  were  but  a  few 
days'  provisions  left,  so  it  was  decided  to  divide  the 
party  into  four  sections :  the  first,  under  Crooks,  was 
to  make  its  way  up  the  river  to  Fort  Henry ;  the 
second,  under  McLellan,  was  to  continue  down  the 
Snake;  while  the  third,  under  McKenzie,  was  to 
traverse  the  wilderness  towards  the  Columbia.  The 
fourth  section  was  to  remain  for  a  time  where  it  was. 
And  it  was  further  understood  that  any  party  which 
should  come  across  assistance  or  supplies  should  re 
turn  to  the  main  body  under  Hunt,  which  would  hold 
the  present  camp  until  their  leader  became  convinced 
that  all  had  failed  in  their  efforts  to  reach  their  desti 
nation.  Let  us  see  how  they  fared. 

McLellan  continued  his  way  down  the  rushing 
Snake  with  three  companions,  but,  finding  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  make  further  progress,  he  de 
flected  his  line  of  march  so  as  to  follow  the  detach 
ment  under  McKenzie.  Their  course  was  over  a  bare 
and  arid  country  where  ihere  was  no  game  and  little 
water.  Occasionally  a  jack-rabbit  scampered  between 
the  clumps  of  sage  brush,  but  no  one  seemed  to  have 
sufficient  ability  with  the  rifle  in  order  to  bring  one 


36         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

down.  A  lean  coyote  would  now  and  again  be  seen, 
and  often  the  weird  wailing  of  one  of  these  creatures 
would  make  night  hideous.  The  jerked  buffalo  meat 
which  they  carried  was  soon  exhausted  and  the  ad 
venturers  began  to  suffer  from  the  gnawing  pains  of 
hunger,  but  on  they  walked  with  grim  and  steadfast 
determination.  Weary,  footsore,  and  nearly  ex 
hausted,  they  finally  came  upon  McKenzie  and  his  five 
companions.  These  fortunately  had  food,  which  they 
gave  to  the  gaunt  trappers,  who  rested  for  a  full  day 
before  they  could  go  on. 

McLellan  was  undaunted.  Trained  in  a  hundred 
combats  with  the  savages  of  the  West,  and  hardened 
by  years  of  exposure,  he  saw  r.o  cause  for  despond 
ency.  Some  of  the  trappers,  however,  gave  way  to 
despair.  They  were  among  the  barren  drifts  and  ex 
tinct  craters  of  gigantic  volcanoes,  while,  through  the 
winding  fissures  of  its  canyoned  walls,  the  furious  tor 
rent  of  the  Snake  River  dashed,  foamed,  and  roared 
beneath  them.  Like  a  snow-white  ribbon  it  plunged 
onward  upon  its  wild  career,  and,  in  the  sobbing  roar 
of  its  cataracts,  some  of  the  more  weak-hearted  fan 
cied  that  they  heard  the  voices  of  those  departed,  who 
called  to  them  to  follow  where  they  had  gone. 

It  grew  cold.  A  fierce  snow-storm  came  upon  them. 
As  the  food  supply  was  gone,  a  dozen  beaver  skins 
were  cut  into  strips  and  roasted,  but  this  provender 
only  sustained  life  for  a  few  days.  At  length  the  trap 
pers  became  exhausted,  and,  crouching  under  the  pro 
tecting  ledge  of  a  wall  of  rock,  shivered  before  their 
fire,  and  gloomily  looked  forth  upon  the  blinding 


ROBERT   McLELLAN  37 

snow.  All  was  sadness  and  despondency.  Some  con 
templated  death,  which  they  thought  to  be  inevitable, 
and  even  the  lion-hearted  McLellan  lost  that  un 
daunted  courage  which  had  never  before  deserted 
him.  Could  it  be  that  they  were  to  die  before  they 
saw  the  roaring  waters  of  the  Columbia  ?  Could  it  be 
that  they  were  to  perish  before  they  reached  the 
trader's  post  upon  the  green-gray  stretch  of  the  Pa 
cific  Ocean? 

Peering  into  the  gloom  from  his  rocky  shelter,  the 
keen  eyes  of  McLellan  suddenly  perceived  a  buffalo, 
which,  driven  to  the  rocky  wall  by  the  desire  to  get 
away  from  the  blinding  snow,  was  crouching  under 
the  lee  of  a  high  bluff.  What  could  be  more  fortu 
nate?  Taking  note  of  the  direction  of  the  wind,  the 
trapper  left  his  hiding-place  and  crawled  against  it, 
until  he  came  within  thirty  yards  of  the  beast.  Care 
fully  he  wormed  his  way  behind  a  jutting  ledge  of 
rock  and  sand,  then  —  taking  a  good  sight  —  touched 
the  trigger  of  his  rifle,  and  the  great  lumbering  brute 
fell  dead.  With  a  wild  and  hilarious  cheer  the  old 
scout  dashed  to  where  he  lay  and  cut  joyful  capers 
around  him  in  the  snow.  "  Hurray !  Hurray !  "  he 
cried.  "  Now  we  will  have  enough  food  to  last  us 
for  many  days.  Hurray !  Hurray !  " 

Seizing  upon  the  carcass  of  the  beast,  the  old  scout 
rolled  him  down  the  hill  towards  the  cavern  in  which 
his  own  companions  were  shivering.  With  a  wild  yell 
he  announced  his  triumph  and  this  was  answered  by 
a  hoarse  cry  from  the  half- famished  trappers,  who 
rushed  upon  the  beast,  and,  but  for  the  warning  of 


38         FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

the  old  frontiersman,  would  have  gorged  themselves 
upon  the  raw  flesh,  so  great  was  their  hunger. 

"  Hold  back,  my  friends,"  cried  he.  "  Wait  but  a 
moment  and  I  will  give  you  some  cooked  food.  Re 
strain  yourselves,  for  a  few  seconds,  and  I  will  see  that 
you  get  enough  to  save  your  lives.  Eat  the  raw  flesh 
and  you  will  all  perish." 

It  was  difficult  to  hold  back  the  starving  trappers, 
but  soon  a  fire  was  lighted,  the  choicest  parts  of  the 
buffalo  were  broiled  upon  a  ramrod,  and  the  gaunt 
spectres  were  allowed  a  feast.  This  saved  their  lives. 
With  renewed  strength  they  again  made  their  way 
towards  the  Columbia,  and,  meeting  with  an  occa 
sional  buffalo  which  they  had  the  good  fortune  to  kill, 
at  length  reached  the  swirling  river,  where  a  band  of 
roving  red  men  supplied  them  with  a  number  of 
canoes.  They  also  secured  sufficient  jerked  meat  to 
last  them  until  they  should  reach  the  coast,  where  the 
trading-post  of  Astoria  had  already  been  established. 
To  that  lucky  shot  of  McLellan's  they  owed  their 
lives. 

Hunt,  meanwhile,  had  decided  that  the  three  parties 
had  successfully  made  their  way  to  the  coast,  so  he 
had  started  for  the  Columbia.  Crooks  had  reached 
Fort  Henry,  where  he  spent  his  time  in  trapping  and 
in  trading  with  the  redskins.  As  for  the  trappers  who 
had  left  for  Astoria  by  sea,  they  had  met  with  an  ad 
verse  fate,  for  the  savages  had  induced  them  to  enter 
the  mouth  of  a  small  river,  when  they  reached  the 
neighborhood  of  the  trading-post,  and  here  had  sur 
rounded  and  massacred  all  of  the  voyageurs,  after  the 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  39 

vessel  had  been  run  aground.  It  took  Hunt  over  a 
month  to  arrive  at  the  coast.  Crooks  eventually  fol 
lowed.  He  met  the  other  trappers  after  a  separation 
of  five  months'  duration. 

After  frightful  privations  and  suffering  the  four 
parties  were  now  safe  at  Astoria ;  a  trading-post  which 
was  to  create  a  fortune  for  its  founder,  John  Jacob 
Astor,  a  shrewd  merchant  of  New  York,  who  was  a 
dealer  in  furs  and  peltries  of  wild  animals.  But  there 
was  still  travelling  to  be  done,  for  Hunt  determined 
soon  after  his  arrival  to  send  a  party  overland,  in 
order  to  notify  Astor  of  the  loss  of  the  detachment 
which  had  come  by  sea. 

Strange  to  relate,  the  lion-hearted  McLellan  an 
nounced  that  he  intended  to  go  back  with  this  party 
to  St.  Louis.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  I  have  not  been  given 
a  sufficient  share  of  the  profits  of  this  company.  I 
am  entitled  to  more."  His  friends  begged  him  to  re 
main  and  not  again  to  plunge  into  the  wilderness, 
where  were  dangers  just  as  great  as  those  from  which 
he  had  escaped.  But  he  was  obstinate  in  his  purpose. 
"  To  St.  Louis  I  shall  go,"  said  he,  "  and  not  all  the 
redskins  on  the  earth  will  stop  me.  I  have  been 
treated  most  unfairly."  Thus,  on  the  twenty-second 
day  of  March,  1812,  he  turned  his  back  upon  Astoria, 
and  set  out  upon  the  hazardous  trip  towards  the  East. 
The  detachment  was  under  the  command  of  John 
Reed,  clerk  of  the  Fur  Company,  a  man  of  undoubted 
courage  and  experience  in  frontier  warfare. 

There  were  seventeen  in  this  particular  expedition, 
all  men  of  well  tried  courage  and  resource  in  wilder- 


40         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

ness  adventure.  Ascending  the  Columbia  in  canoes, 
they  reached  the  falls  and  were  preparing  to  make  the 
portage  when  a  band  of  redskins  surrounded  them  and 
began  to  shoot  arrows  at  their  ranks.  The  trappers 
crouched  behind  the  protection  of  trees  and  boulders, 
and  made  a  stand,  sending  many  a  humming  bullet 
into  the  ranks  of  the  savages,  who  suddenly  ceased 
hostilities,  and,  holding  up  their  hands  in  sign  of  peace, 
came  towards  the  white  men.  Mingling  with  the 
travellers,  the  Indians  offered  to  carry  their  luggage 
around  the  rapids. 

"  The  redskins  only  want  to  steal  all  that  we've 
got,"  whispered  McLellan  to  his  men.  "  But  we  can 
let  them  carry  the  canoes  around  the  falls.  Then  we 
can  get  the  baggage  over  during  the  night,  and,  when 
morning  dawns,  we'll  be  off  before  the  varmints  know 
what  we're  up  to." 

The  redskins  seemed  to  be  well  satisfied.  They 
carried  the  canoes  upon  their  broad  shoulders,  and,  as 
night  fell,  retired  to  their  village  across  the  river, 
leaving  a  few  upon  the  same  side  as  the  whites.  Mc 
Lellan  waited  until  the  moon  rose;  then  waking  the 
others,  he  told  them  to  get  their  baggage  around  the 
falls  as  soon  as  they  could.  The  trappers  worked  in 
dustriously,  and  just  as  day  was  breaking,  they  de 
posited  the  last  sack  of  provisions  at  the  head  of  the 
rapids.  This  had  been  done  without  waking  the  red 
skins,  who  were  upon  their  side  of  the  river. 

But  now  was  an  uproar,  for  the  savages  across  the 
stream  learned  what  was  going  on,  and,  in  a  few 
moments,  came  swarming  to  the  attack.  A  hundred 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  41 

of  them  rushed  upon  the  nervy  band  of  trappers,  cry 
ing  out,  "  You  no  go  on.  You  stay  here.  You  no 
go  away." 

Brandishing  aloft  an  immense  club,  a  red  warrior 
rushed  upon  Reed  and  felled  him  to  the  ground.  An 
other  ran  towards  McLellan,  who,  with  rifle  in  hand, 
stood  watching  the  affray.  As  he  approached,  the 
trapper  was  ready,  and,  although  the  redskin  at 
tempted  to  throw  a  buffalo  robe  over  his  head  in 
order  to  blind  his  vision  as  he  made  a  thrust  at  him 
with  his  knife,  the  old  scout  was  too  wary  a  bird  to 
be  caught  napping.  Stepping  quickly  aside,  he  shot 
the  savage  dead.  As  the  redskin  rolled  over,  a  noise 
sounded  from  behind,  and,  wheeling  around,  he  was 
just  in  time  to  hit  another  Indian  who  was  about  to 
shoot  him  with  a  rifle.  The  trappers  now  rallied  to 
the  defense  of  their  leader.  The  savage  who  had  at 
tacked  Reed  was  dispatched  just  as  he  was  about  to 
brain  the  trapper  with  his  tomahawk.  The  rifles  of 
the  men  from  Astoria  spoke  in  unison,  and  terrified 
by  the  desperate  courage  of  the  rangers,  the  savages 
dropped  back.  McLellan  urged  his  followers  to  the 
charge,  and,  with  a  wild  yell,  they  rushed  upon  the 
redskins,  who  took  to  their  heels,  leaving  many  of 
their  number  prostrate  upon  the  ground. 

The  unfortunate  Reed  had  lost  his  dispatches  to 
Astor,  for  he  carried  them  in  a  bright,  new,  tin  box 
which  immediately  attracted  the  attention  of  the  In 
dians.  They  fancied  that  it  must  be  of  great  value, 
because  of  the  care  which  the  leader  took  of  it.  But 
this  put  an  end  to  the  expedition.  Reluctantly  and 


42         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

sadly  the  trappers  returned  to  the  trading-post,  where 
the  wounded  recovered  from  their  injuries  received 
in  the  little  skirmish  with  the  red  men. 

Hunt  was  greatly  disappointed.  "  Boys!  "  said  he, 
"  I  must  absolutely  get  my  dispatches  through  to 
Saint  Louis,  —  Indians  or  no  Indians.  Astor  must 
know  of  the  fate  of  his  other  division.  I  will  start 
a  second  expedition  in  June  and  Robert  Stuart  will 
be  its  commander.  He  will  take  only  four  good  men 
with  him." 

McLellan  announced  that  he  would  be  a  member  of 
the  party,  and  Crooks  also  declared  that  he  would  leave 
Astoria,  because  he  had  become  dissatisfied  with  the 
method  in  which  Hunt  had  treated  him.  They  soon 
launched  their  canoes  in  the  Columbia ;  began  to  pad 
dle  up  the  stream,  and,  before  long,  reached  the  mouth 
of  the  Walla- Walla,  where  they  hid  their  frail  craft, 
and  started  across  country  to  the  Snake  River. 
Horses  had  been  purchased  from  the  red  men,  and 
with  these  they  made  good  time,  although  again  their 
food  supply  became  exhausted  so  that  they  were  forced 
to  scrape  the  fur  from  beaver  and  buffalo  skins  and 
eat  the  hide  in  order  to  keep  from  starving.  Fortu 
nately  game  was  now  met  with  and  this  provender 
saved  their  lives. 

At  the  place  where  they  had  last  camped  on  Snake 
River  they  had  buried  a  quantity  of  dried  meat  and 
other  food,  but  when  they  arrived  there  they  dis 
covered  that  the  redskins  had  found  out  its  where 
abouts,  had  dug  it  up,  and  had  carried  it  away.  It 
was  growing  cold,  but  they  pressed  forward  with  re- 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  43 

newed  courage,  and  entered  a  country  which  was  free 
from  game,  so  that  again  they  were  threatened  with 
the  dangers  of  starvation.  Besides  this,  it  was  the 
land  of  the  Crow  Indians,  who  were  terrific  thieves 
and  who  soon  discovered  the  presence  of  the  little 
band  of  trappers.  The  sharp  eyes  of  McLellan  — 
well  used  to  watching  game  —  were  not  long  in  dis 
covering  the  presence  of  the  Indians. 

"  Look  out.  boys,"  said  he.  "  I  notice  some  of  the 
red  varmints  hovering  near  by  and  suspect  that  we 
will  be  attacked  before  long.  Look  to  the  priming  of 
your  rifles  and  have  plenty  of  ammunition  handy.  Be 
on  your  guard !  " 

The  trappers  gave  good  heed  to  this  warning  and 
redoubled  their  guards  around  the  camp  at  nightfall. 
It  was  well  that  they  did  so,  for,  on  the  very  next  day, 
a  large  band  of  red  men  rode  up  to  their  halting-place, 
all  fully  armed  with  spears  and  arrows. 

"  Ugh !  Ugh !  "  said  the  spokesman.  "  Where  are 
my  white  brothers  going?  " 

McLellan  answered  for  the  trappers  that  they  were 
upon  a  peaceful  errand  and  would  not  molest  the  red 
men,  if  they  in  turn  would  do  them  no  harm.  As  he 
spoke,  the  redskins  looked  carefully  at  the  men  of  the 
frontier,  and,  seeing  them  well  armed  and  ready  for 
business,  decided  not  to  attack.  But  they  travelled 
with  them  for  six  whple  days,  quietly  stealing  any 
little  articles  that  they  could  find,  and,  on  the  evening 
of  the  sixth  day,  ran  off  all  the  horses  of  the  trappers 
in  a  mad  stampede.  The  white  adventurers  were  in 
a  desperate  situation. 


44          FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Stuart,  the  commander,  now  spoke  vigorous  words. 

"  We  must  cache  everything  which  we  cannot  carry, 
and  push  on,"  said  he.  "  Let  winter  overtake  us  in 
this  God-forsaken  country  and  all  is  lost.  On !  On !  " 

As  the  men  were  busily  engaged  in  digging  a  hole 
in  which  to  bury  the  supplies,  one  of  the  trappers  in 
terrupted  them. 

"  Two  of  those  thieving  Crows  are  watching  us," 
said  he,  "  and  they  will  dig  everything  up  just  as  soon 
as  we  disappear." 

McLellan  grew  furious  at  this  information. 

"  No  thieving  Crow  will  ever  get  anything  of  mine," 
said  he,  "  unless  they  get  my  scalp  first.  I'll  burn 
everything  which  we  leave  behind,  and  then  let  Mr. 
Redskin  hustle  for  the  white  man's  food." 

"  You're  right !  "  answered  all.    "  Burn  it  we  will !  " 

Their  stores  were  soon  piled  up  into  a  heap  and 
were  consumed  by  the  flames. 

They  now  headed  for  the  Mad  River,  where  they 
built  rafts,  and  floated  them  down  these  turbid  waters, 
for  several  days.  Then  they  again  struck  off  across 
country  towards  the  East,  crossing  a  wide  plateau  to 
the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  They  were  in  the 
land  of  the  Blackfeet  Indians,  who  were  as  hostile 
towards  the  whites  as  were  the  Crows,  and  who  were 
as  arrant  thieves;  but  they  kept  on  towards  the  high 
land,  hoping  thus  to  elude  the  red  men.  As  they  pro 
ceeded  into  the  mountains,  McLellan  bitterly  com 
plained  against  their  course  and  begged  them  to  re 
main  upon  the  plateau.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  I've  already 
had  enough  mountain  climbing  to  last  me  a  lifetime, 


EGBERT   McLELLAN  45 

and  I'd  rather  be  comfortably  killed  by  the  Indians 
than  break  my  neck  falling  down  a  canyon.  You  boys 
would  rather  climb  mountains  than  fight  the  red 
skins." 

To  these  remarks  Stuart  and  his  companions  paid 
no  attention,  but  kept  on  their  way.  McLellan  was 
liked  by  all,  and  one  trapper  offered  to  give  him  a  load 
of  jerked  meat  to  carry,  instead  of  the  traps. 

"  A  hunter  should  be  able  to  kill  his  own  meat 
without  carrying  any/'  said  the  old  pioneer,  who  was 
now  thoroughly  angry.  "  Who  wants  to  carry  a 
whole  horse-load  of  dried  beef  on  his  back?  As  for 
me,  I'll  go  no  further  with  you.  Fools !  Good-by !  " 

This  burst  of  temper  seemed  to  relieve  his  mind, 
and,  starting  down  the  mountain,  he  set  out  alone 
without  once  looking  behind  him.  His  companions 
kept  on,  and  as  they  reached  the  top  of  the  eminence, 
gazed  over  the  plain,  where  a  dark  spot  marked  the 
form  of  the  angered  man  of  the  frontier. 

"  Boys,"  said  Stuart.  "  There  goes  the  last  of  the 
old  pioneers  of  the  Kentucky  border.  You  will  never 
see  him  or  his  like  again." 

As  he  said  this,  the  eyes  of  many  of  his  compan 
ions  filled  with  tears. 

Events  were  not  to  go  smoothly  with  either  Mc 
Lellan  or  Stuart,  for  the  former  lost  his  way ;  became 
so  weak  from  lack  of  food  that  he  was  unable  to  go 
further;  and  wandered  aimlessly  about.  The  latter 
also  suffered  terribly  from  hunger,  but  kept  on,  hop 
ing  to  meet  with  game  at  every  mile.  His  men  were 
footsore  and  dejected,  for  they  entered  upon  a  barren 


46          FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

region  where  there  was  no  game,  and  where  even  the 
coyotes  seemed  to  have  disappeared.  They  became 
desperate,  and  determined  to  throw  themselves  upon 
the  mercy  of  the  malicious  Blackfeet,  should  they 
come  across  them. 

With  this  end  in  view,  the  voyageurs  kept  a  sharp 
lookout  for  Indian  fires,  hoping  to  gain  food  and  as 
sistance  from  the  red  men.  Suddenly,  in  the  far  dis 
tance,  they  saw  the  twinkle  of  a  little  light  and  knew 
that  some  living  being  was  near  them.  But  it  was 
late  in  the  day.  So  they  dispatched  one  of  their  num 
ber  to  see  who  it  was,  while  the  rest  went  into  camp 
for  the  night.  The  messenger  did  not  return. 

Upon  the  day  following,  the  exhausted  plainsmen 
hastened  in  the  direction  of  the  fire  which  they  had 
seen  the  evening  before,  and  met  their  companion  run 
ning  towards  them. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  '  Old  Bob  '  McLellan  is  lying 
by  that  fire  in  an  absolutely  exhausted  condition.  He 
is  so  weak  that  unless  some  stimulant  is  given  him  he 
will  expire.  Hurry  and  give  him  food  from  our 
meagre  supply ! " 

This  hastened  the  feet  of  the  trappers,  and  reaching 
the  place  where  the  stubborn-minded  old  pioneer  was 
lying,  they  discovered  that  he  was  in  a  desperate 
plight.  A  cup  of  hot  coffee,  however,  soon  revived 
him,  so  that  he  was  able  to  struggle  to  his  feet  and 
join  in  their  weary  march.  His  rifle  was  carried  by 
one  of  his  companions. 

The  little  party  pressed  on,  luckily  came  across  a 
"  solitary,"  or  bull  buffalo,  which  had  been  driven 


EGBERT   McLBLLAN  47 

from  the  herd  because  of  old  age  and  infirmity,  and 
had  the  good  fortune  to  kill  it.  Strengthened  by  this 
repast,  they  stumbled  forward,  and,  by  great  good 
chance,  came  upon  a  band  of  Snake  Indians,  who  fed 
them,  gave  them  buckskin  for  moccasins,  and,  at  their 
departure,  not  only  presented  them  with  a  goodly 
quantity  of  jerked  meat,  but  also  with  an  old  horse 
to  carry  it.  Winter  was  coming  on.  Small  flurries 
of  snow  announced  the  advent  of  the  season,  but  they 
were  now  nearing  the  river  Platte,  where  was  an 
abundance  of  game.  The  old  scout  had  recovered 
from  his  exhaustion  and  was  once  more  the  leader  of 
these  heroic  plainsmen,  who  had  twice  been  upon  the 
verge  of  starvation.  Their  emaciated  forms  had 
filled  out;  their  faces  were  sunburned  and  glowed 
with  health ;  while  their  spirits  and  their  strength  was 
as  of  yore. 

It  was  well  into  November  when  the  party  reached 
the  river  Platte,  where  were  quantities  of  antelope 
and  buffalo  upon  the  grassy  plains  which  rolled  from 
either  bank.  They  had  a  big  hunt  and  collected  suffi 
cient  buffalo  meat  to  last  through  the  winter.  Then 
they  built  a  hut  of  logs  and  plastered  it  with  mud, 
determined  to  remain  here  until  the  warmth  of  spring 
made  it  possible  for  them  to  move  further  upon  their 
long  journey  to  the  settlements.  The  days  passed 
pleasantly,  but  one  morning  they  were  awakened  by 
the  wild  screeching  of  a  band  of  savages,  and  rushing 
to  the  doorway  of  their  cabin,  found  that  they  were 
surrounded  by  fully  a  hundred  painted  braves. 

"Well,"   said   McLellan,   "I —  for  one  — am  all 


48         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

ready  for  a  brush  with  the  redskins,  whom  I  hate  as 
much  as  I  do  old  Lisa:  the  dastardly  Spanish  trick 
ster.  So,  my  fine  fellows,  look  to  your  rifles  and  we'll 
have  a  little  picnic.'' 

"  Not  so  fast,"  Stuart  interrupted.  "  I  believe  that 
these  fellows  are  peaceably  disposed  towards  us." 
And  — '  so  saying  —  he  stepped  forth  from  the  door, 
rifle  in  one  hand,  the  other  extended  towards  the  In 
dians.  Several  of  them  came  forward,  shook  his  hand 
with  heartiness,  and  intimated  that  they  wished  to 
have  peace  and  not  warfare.  One  of  the  chiefs  could 
speak  good  English. 

"  We  are  on  the  war-path,"  said  he.  "  We  are 
Cheyennes  and  our  enemies  are  the  Crows,  who  have 
raided  one  of  our  villages,  have  stolen  many  ponies 
and  much  dried  meat.  They  shall  be  punished." 

This  was  cheerful  news. 

"  Well,"  murmured  Stuart,  "  here  we  are  between 
two  fires.  On  one  side  are  the  Cheyennes,  on  the 
other  are  the  Crows.  As  they  are  both  upon  the  war 
path,  we  are  in  continual  danger  from  each  of  them. 
If  a  war  party  is  defeated,  it  will  doubtless  wreak 
vengeance  upon  us  when  returning  from  the  fray. 
The  only  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  take  our  chances  and 
move  towards  the  East." 

The  situation  was  presented  to  the  rest  of  the  trap 
pers,  all  of  whom  were  of  the  opinion  that  they  should 
decamp.  Winter  was  upon  them  and  snow  was  deep 
upon  the  ground,  but,  if  they  would  save  their  lives, 
they  must  leave  at  once.  The  raw-boned  old  horse 
was  loaded  up,  their  packs  were  slung  on  their  own 


ROBERT   McLELLAJtf  49 

shoulders,  and,  upon  the  thirteenth  day  of  December, 
the  band  of  adventurers  set  off  down  the  Platte. 
Snow-storms  and  bitter  winds  assailed  them,  but  on 
they  struggled  until  well  beyond  the  range  of  the  war 
like  savages.  Here  they  built  another  hut,  passed  the 
winter  in  peace,  and  in  March,  1813,  started  down  the 
river  in  canoes  which  they  had  made  from  hollowed 
stumps  of  trees.  After  an  uneventful  trip,  they  finally 
reached  the  Missouri  and  were  soon  on  their  way  to 
the  frontier  trading-post  of  St.  Louis.  Astor  then 
learned  what  had  happened  to  the  adventurous  souls 
who  had  attempted  to  reach  his  trading-post  by  sea. 

The  hazardous  trip  was  over  at  last.  "  Old  Bob  " 
McLellan  and  his  companions  had  crossed  the  wildest- 
portion  of  an  unexplored  continent;  had  endured 
terrific  hardship  and  exposure ;  but  had  brought  home 
an  accurate  description  of  the  virgin  West  to  the 
hearing  of  many  adventurous  souls,  who  —  thronging 
upon  the  border  —  were  anxious  and  eager  to  press 
into  the  unknown  prairie  and  mountain  land.  Two  or 
three  times  the  trappers  had  just  escaped  death  by 
starvation.  Twice  they  had  barely  missed  a  massacre 
by  the  redskins.  Yet  their  courage  and  fortitude  had 
carried  them  through  every  peril,  and  at  last  they 
were  among  their  own  kind,  where  appreciation  of 
their  nerve  and  valor  was  freely  shown. 

What  of  "Old  Bob"  McLellan,  as  he  was  affec 
tionately  called?  AlasT  The  sinewy  plainsman  had 
been  much  broken  by  the  hardships  of  this  arduous 
journey  to  Astoria.  Exposure  and  starvation  had 
done  its  work  upon  the  frame  of  the  hardy  man  of 


50         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

the  frontier,  and  now  he  was  unable  to  again  venture 
into  the  unknown.  Purchasing  a  stock  of  goods  suit 
able  for  a  trader,  he  opened  a  country  store  at  Cape 
Girardeau,  near  St.  Louis,  but  the  angel  of  death  even 
then  hovered  over  the  soul  of  the  stalwart  man  of  the 
plains.  In  a  few  months  he  quietly  passed  into  the 
great  beyond. 

Thus  peacefully  ended  the  career  of  one  of  the  last 
of  the  valorous  scouts  and  pioneers  who  had  forced 
back  the  savage  hordes  from  the  Alleghanies  to  the 
Mississippi,  and  who,  even  as  old  age  advanced,  had 
plunged  into  an  unexplored  and  unpeopled  country, 
to  risk  both  life  and  limb  among  savage  men  and 
beasts.  Red  ran  the  blood  in  the  veins  of  this  vigor 
ous  Kentuckian,  and  he  is  to  be  remembered  as  a 
good  type  of  the  venturesome  pioneers  who  explored 
and  opened  to  white  civilization  the  vast  and  unknown 
regions  of  western  America.  The  hazardous  journey 
to  Astoria  quite  equalled  in  danger  that  eventful  pil 
grimage  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  the  first  white  adven 
turers  to  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Pacific. 
Hats  off  to  "  Old  Bob  "  McLellan. 


COLONEL    BENJAMIN    LOGAN: 

THE    INTREPID    FIGHTER   OF   THE 
KENTUCKY    FRONTIER 

MOTHER,  I  know  that  the  law  allows  me  to 
have  all  of  the  property  which  my  father 
left,  but  I  do  not  want  it.  You  can  have 
your  share,  and  to  my  brothers  and  sisters  I  give  the 
remainder.  I,  myself,  will  move  further  West,  into 
the  wilderness." 

The  youth  who  spoke  was  about  twenty-one  years 
of  age;  tall,  slender,  and  graceful.  His  face  was 
open,  frank,  and  expressive.  As  he  ceased,  he  waved 
his  hand  towards  the  West  and  left  the  room  in 
which  his  parent  was  sitting  upon  an  old-fashioned 
horse-hair  sofa.  His  name  was  Benjamin  Logan. 

Although  the  old  English  law  of  primogeniture  pre 
vailed  in  Virginia  at  this  time,  which  gave  the  farm, 
horses,  and  farming  utensils  to  young  Logan  (upon 
the  death  of  his  father)  he  refused  to  accept  them. 
Instead  of  this,  he  nobly  partitioned  the  estate  be 
tween  his  mother,  his  three  brothers,  and  two.  sisters, 
and  removed  to  the  Huston  River.  Then  he  began 
to  farm  a  rough  piece  of  ground,  only  part  of  which 
had  been  cleared  of  timber. 

About  this  time  the  Indians  upon  the  Ohio  frontier 
became  very  troublesome,  and  Logan  enlisted  as  a 

51 


52         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

private  in  the  army  of  Lord  Dunmore,  Governor  of 
Virginia.  Marching  into  the  Indian  country  was  a 
rough  experience,  but  the  youth  enjoyed  it,  and  when 
the  red  men  signed  articles  of  peace  at  Chillicothe, 
Ohio,  the  stout  Virginian  was  among  those  who  stood 
near  the  chiefs  and  saw  them  put  their  names  to  the 
agreement.  Kentucky  was  now  fairly  peaceable.  So 
the  energetic  young  man  moved  his  family  to  Har- 
rodsburg,  where  a  stockade  had  been  erected  called 
Logan's  Fort. 

"  You  must  look  out  for  the  redskins,"  said  a  com 
rade  to  him.  "  Although  they  have  signed  an  agree 
ment  to  let  us  alone,  my  friends  report  that  there  are 
many  of  them  in  the  vicinity,  and  they  are  all  daubed 
up  with  paint,  because  they  are  upon  the  war-path." 

"  I  will  be  on  my  guard,"  replied  the  young  pio 
neer.  "  We  must  all  run  to  the  fort  if  there  is  danger 
of  attack."  The  test  was  to  come  sooner  than  he  ex 
pected. 

Upon  a  balmy  day  in  May,  when  the  women  were 
milking  their  cows  near  the  gate  of  Fort  Logan,  and 
a  few  men  were  standing  by,  in  order  to  assist  them, 
a  small  band  of  redskins  appeared  at  the  edge  of  a 
thicket.  Crash,  a  volley  woke  the  stillness,  and  one  of 
the  frontiersmen  fell  dead  while  two  staggered  behind 
the  log  breastwork,  with  mortal  wounds.  A  third  — 
a  stout  fellow  called  Harrison  —  was  unable  to  reach 
the  gate,  and  dragged  himself  along  to  the  shelter  of 
some  bushes. 

Within  the  fort,  all  gazed  with  sorrow  at  the 
wounded  pioneer,  who,  although  in  range  of  the  In- 


COLONEL   BENJAMIN  -LOGAN      53 

dian  rifles,  was  so  protected  that  the  balls  could  not 
quite  reach  him.  Those  in  the  fort  kept  up  a  fusillade 
in  the  direction  of  the  red  men,  making  them  get 
below  cover,  and  thus  the  battle  continued ;  the  leaden 
balls  zipping  and  whizzing  across  the  place,  where 
Harrison  lay  partially  concealed.  The  man's  family, 
in  the  fort,  seemed  to  be  in  an  agony  of  distress  at  his 
terrible  condition.  To  save  him  would  require  great 
nerve  and  heroism.  There  were  but  fifteen  men  in 
the  stockade;  two  were  badly  wounded.  Should  they 
sacrifice  any  of  this  small  number  in  the  endeavor  to 
rescue  a  man,  who,  even  should  he  be  retaken,  would 
be  unable  to  fight  in  defense  of  the  fortification?  This 
question  confronted  the  beleaguered  pioneers,  and  it 
was  a  serious  one. 

At  this  moment  young  Logan  stepped  forward  and 
said: 

"  Who  will  go  with  me  to  the  rescue  of  this  poor 
fellow?" 

It  was  strange  to  see  the  effect  of  these  words  upon 
the  besieged  frontiersmen.  At  first  every  one  re 
fused. 

"  I'm  not  a  fast  runner,"  said  one,  "  and  know  that 
they  will  easily  catch  me  on  the  return  trip,  even  if  I 
am  not  shot  before  I  reach  the  wounded  man." 

A  second  —  a  fellow  of  giant  build  —  quavered : 
"  I  am  a  weakly  chap.  I  never  was  no  good,  nohow, 
on  liftin'.  Perhaps  you'd  better  git  ernother  stouter 
feller  than  I  be." 

Still  a  third  remarked  that,  "  he  wuz  plum  onlucky 
with  Injin  bullets,  an'  never  wuz  known  tew  git 


54         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

amongst  'em  in  the  open  without  havin'  one  uv  'em 
nick  him." 

Ben  Logan  could  not  help  smiling  at  this. 

"What,  are  you  all  afraid  to  follow  me?"  said 
he. 

At  this,  a  trapper  called  John  Martin  stepped  to 
wards  him,  and  said : 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  for  I  can  only  die  once  and 
I  am  as  ready  now  to  go  to  my  Maker,  as  I  ever  will 
be.  Come  on !  To  the  rescue !  " 

"  You  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart/'  ^answered 
the  bold  pioneer,  grasping  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 
"  We  will  start  at  once." 

Throwing  open  the  gates  to  the  stockade,  both 
dashed  towards  the  prostrate  frontiersman.  They 
had  proceeded  about  five  yards  from  the  fort  when 
Harrison  made  an  effort  to  rise.  As  he  got  to  his 
hands  and  knees,  Martin  turned  and  fled  to  the  stock 
ade. 

"  This  is  fine  treatment,"  mused  Logan,  but  he 
kept  on  under  a  veritable  shower  of  bullets  from  the 
redskins.  Fortune  favored  him;  he  was  not  hit,  and 
reaching  the  wounded  frontiersman  in  safety,  clasped 
him  in  his  arms,  and  began  to  lug  him  back  to  the 
fort.  The  deed  was  a  noble  one. 

Bullets  from  the  red  men  fairly  poured  around  the 
struggling  backwoodsman,  as  he  staggered  towards 
the  stockade  of  logs.  His  hat  was  pierced  by  a  ball; 
one  even  penetrated  his  hunting-shirt,  but,  in  spite  of 
this,  he  finally  reached  the  doorway.  Hurrah!  As 
he  deposited  the  body  of  the  wounded  man  safely  upon 


COLONEL  BENJAMIN  LOGAN  55 

the  ground  a  mighty  cheer  welled  from  the  throats  of 
all.  Hurrah!  Hurrah,  for  Benjamin  Logan! 

Even  the  Hercules  who  had  complained  of  being 
"  a  weakly  fellow  "  threw  up  his  hat  in  the  air. 

"Well,  by  Gum!  Logan,"  said  he,  "if  yew  ain't 
th'  plum  luckiest  feller  I  ever  knowed.  I  believe  that 
yew  be  charmed,  so  ez  an  Injun  bullet  can't  hit  yew. 
Ez  fer  me?  Why,  I  would  hev  been  struck  er  dozen 
times  in  thet  hazardous  journey.  Huzzah!  says  I. 
Here's  tew  yer !  " 

But  all  danger  was  not  yet  over  by  any  means.  The 
red  men  were  in  numbers,  and  besieged  the  fort  with 
a  tenacity  that  made  matters  take  a  decidedly  ugly 
look,  for  the  few  men  of  the  garrison  were  not  able 
to  put  up  a  very  stiff  fire  against  the  increasing  bands 
of  Indians.  Another  danger  also  threatened,  for  the 
supply  of  ammunition  became  exhausted.  How  was 
more  to  be  obtained  ? 

Distant,  about  a  hundred  miles,  was  the  frontier 
settlement  on  the  Holston  River,  to  which  Logan  had 
first  moved  when  he  left  his  farm  in  Virginia.  Here 
was  ammunition  in  abundance,  and  also  supplies  of 
food  and  clothing.  Would  any  one  have  nerve  enough 
to  creep  through  and  relieve  the  beleaguered  garrison  ? 
This  required  the  greatest  judgment  and  unbounded 
courage,  for  the  intervening  country  was  swarming 
with  savages,  all  upon  th^  war-path.  It  was  a  region 
full  of  deep  ravines,  tangled  thickets,  and  treacherous 
swampland. 

Again  all  were  asked  to  undertake  the  journey,  but 
there  were  as  many  excuses  as  before.  Again  Ben- 


56         FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN 

jamin  Logan  stepped  into  the  breach  and  offered  to 
bring  relief.  That  night  he  clambered  to  the  top  of 
the  stockade,  dropped  softly  to  the  ground  outside, 
and  soon  his  form  was  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the 
encircling  forest.  He  passed  through  the  Indian  lines 
in  safety,  and,  by  daybreak,  was  headed  for  the  post 
at  Holston.  His  last  words  to  the  garrison  were: 
"  Hold  fast !  Hold  on !  I  will  be  sure  to  return  within 
a  fortnight  and  you  will  all  be  saved ! " 

For  several  days  the  garrison  returned  the  fire  of 
the  Indians  with  spirit,  but,  as  the  hours  fled  by,  a 
terrible  feeling  of  despair  came  over  them.  Their 
water  began  to  give  out;  their  ammunition  was  so 
low  that  they  had  to  use  it  sparingly,  and  the  food 
supply  was  in  such  a  condition  that  there  was  danger 
of  starvation  if  help  did  not  soon  arrive.  Logan, 
meanwhile,  was  toiling  upon  his  way  through  by 
paths,  swamps  and  cane  brakes,  having  deserted  the 
beaten  trail  through  Cumberland  Gap.  Fortune  fa 
vored  him.  He  met  with  no  prowling  red  men,  and, 
within  six  days,  had  covered  the  distance  to  the 
frontier  post. 

The  intrepid  pioneer  now  procured  ammunition, 
food,  and  a  company  of  backwoodsmen.  With  these, 
he  hastened  onwards  towards  his  beleaguered  com 
panions,  and,  upon  the  tenth  day  after  his  departure, 
suddenly  appeared  before  the  stockade.  There  were 
not  twenty  rounds  of  ammunition  left  in  the  fortress. 
Gaunt  and  hollow  cheeks  were  here.  Noble  women 
upheld  the  fainting  spirits  of  the  men,  but  now,  with 
little  hope  of  succor,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  they 


COLONEL  BENJAMIN  LOGAN   57 

kept  up  their  fire  upon  the  redskins,  and  put  out  the 
flaming  brands  which  they  kept  throwing  into  the 
stockade.  A  wild  and  exultant  cheer  greeted  their 
leader  as  he  ran  across  the  clearing  to  the  door  of  the 
side  wall.  "  At  last  you  have  come !  "  they  shouted. 
"  We  had  given  you  up  for  dead !  " 

A  few  days  later  Colonel  Bowman  arrived,  with  a 
large  body  of  men,  at  which  the  Indians  raised  the 
siege  and  fled.  But  they  had  not  gone  for  good.  On 
the  contrary,  they  fairly  swarmed  over  the  borders 
of  Kentucky  and  their  marauding  parties  committed 
some  frightful  outrages.  There  was  nothing  now  to 
be  done  but  to  defeat  them  in  a  battle  and  burn 
their  villages,  if  the  white  settlers  were  to  have 
peace. 

It  was  the  year  1779.  The  Revolution  was  over. 
England  had  lost  her  colonies  to  her  own  sons.  Now 
the  Colonists  were  beginning  the  great  struggle  to 
free  themselves  from  the  curse  of  Indian  invasion. 
An  expedition  was  therefore  organized  to  invade  the 
Shawnee  territory  and  to  raze  to  the  ground  the  fa 
mous  town  of  Chillicothe.  Benjamin  Logan  —  now 
Colonel  Logan  —  was  second  in  command.  Bowman, 
who  had  come  to  the  rescue  at  Logan's  Fort,  was  to 
lead  the  expedition ;  which  was  to  consist  of  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty  men.  They  advanced  in  the  heat  of 
July,  and  marched  wi£h  such  precaution  that  they 
reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  Indian  town  without 
having  been  discovered  by  the  enemy. 

A  plan  for  assaulting  the  village  was  now  decided 
upon.  It  was  very  simple,  for  the  force  was  to  be 


58         FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

divided  into  two  parts;  one,  under  Logan,  was  to 
march  to  the  left:  the  other,  under  Bowman,  was  to 
march  to  the  right.  The  men  were  to  spread  out  in 
single  rank,  and  when  the  leading  files  of  the  two 
columns  had  met,  then,  they  were  to  attack.  It  was 
dark  when  the  backwoods  soldiers  began  the  advance. 
Logan's  men  quite  encircled  the  town,  but  where  was 
Bowman?  All  through  the  night  the  leader  of  the 
left  flank  waited  for  the  coming  of  the  other  column, 
but  not  a  man  in  buckskin  appeared.  Hour  after  hour 
passed  away  and  the  darkness  gave  way  to  dawn.  Still 
Bowman  was  strangely  missing. 

"  Had  you  not  better  attack?  "  whispered  one  of  his 
men.  "  The  Shawnees  will  soon  be  awake  and  will 
discover  our  whereabouts." 

"  Let  us  wait  another  hour  or  two,"  answered  the 
courageous  leader.  "  I  believe  that  the  advance  of 
Bowman's  column  will  soon  be  here." 

Logan's  men  were  secreted  in  ambush.  Here  they 
remained  until  an  Indian  dog  began  to  bark,  arousing 
his  master,  who  came  out  of  his  tepee  in  order  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  An  imprudent  trapper  had  ex 
posed  his  head  above  the  underbrush,  and  the  keen 
eyes  of  the  redskin  quickly  discerned  an  enemy.  He 
raised  a  loud  war-whoop. 

As  he  did  this,  a  gun  went  off  on  Bowman's  side  of 
the  village,  and,  seeing  that  further  concealment  was 
useless,  Colonel  Logan  cried  out  to  his  men : 

"  Charge  into  the  village,  my  boys.  You  must 
drive  the  redskins  through  the  town,  for  Colonel  Bow 
man  will  surely  support  you." 


COLONEL   BENJAMIN   LOGAN      59 

His  buckskin-clad  rangers  defiled  quickly  into  the 
village,  and,  advancing  from  cabin  to  cabin,  soon  had 
reached  a  large  building  in  the  centre.  The  Indians 
fled  swiftly  before  them,  but  later,  recovering  from 
their  surprise,  endeavored  to  turn  the  right  flank  of 
the  Kentuckians,  whom  they  perceived  to  be  in  small 
numbers.  Where  was  Colonel  Bowman? 

The  Shawnees  had  now  seized  their  own  rifles  and 
were  pouring  in  a  hot  fire  upon  the  advancing  fron 
tiersmen,  who  tore  the  heavy  doors  from  the  Indian 
cabins,  formed  a  breastwork,  and  protected  themselves 
from  the  whizzing  balls.  They  were  holding  their 
own  and  were  making  progress  towards  the  Indian 
citadel,  where  most  of  the  braves  had  collected,  when 
an  order  came  from  Colonel  Bowman  to  retreat.  His 
ranking  officer  had  spoken,  so  there  was  nothing  for 
Logan  to  do  but  to  obey. 

As  soon  as  the  men  were  told  that  they  must  go  to 
the  rear,  a  tumultuous  scene  commenced.  Dispirited 
and  disheartened  by  the  order  to  turn  their  backs  upon 
the  enemy,  they  rushed  away  from  the  tomahawks  and 
balls  of  the  savages,  as  best  they  were  able.  The  In 
dians  were  astonished  and  jubilant  over  the  turn  which 
matters  had  taken  and  pursued  the  rangers  with  wild 
and  exultant  yelping.  The  frontiersmen  scattered  in 
every  direction,  dodging  and  twisting  in  order  to 
avoid  the  balls  which  ^thistled  around  them,  and  ran 
from  cabin  to  cabin,  in  confusion.  Suddenly  they 
collided  with  Bowman's  soldiers,  who,  because  of 
some  panic  of  their  commander,  had  stood  stock  still 
near  the  spot  where  Logan  had  left  them  the  night 


60         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

before.  The  redskins  soon  surrounded  them  on  all 
sides,  and  kept  up  a  hot  fire. 

What  was  the  matter  with  Bowman?  He  sat  upon 
his  horse  like  a  pillar  of  stone;  gave  no  orders;  and 
was  in  an  apparently  helpless  mental  condition.  His 
men  paid  no  attention  to  him,  but  swarmed  to  the 
protection  of  trees  and  stumps,  took  aim  at  the  yelp 
ing  red  men,  and  soon  held  them  at  a  safe  distance. 
When  they  seemed  to  be  quieted,  the  frontiersmen  re 
sumed  their  march.  The  Indians,  however,  came 
back  to  the  attack,  but  were  beaten  off.  They  fol 
lowed,  and  made  an  assault  every  half  mile,  or  so. 
Their  tenacity  was  due  to  the  fact  that  they  expected 
reinforcements  and  hoped  to  annihilate  the  whites. 

"  Keep  together,  my  brave  men,"  shouted  Colonel 
Logan,  at  this  juncture.  "  Do  not  let  these  redskins 
stampede  you,  for  then  you  will  all  be  massacred." 

The  crisis  was  a  terrible  one.  The  retreat  would 
become  a  rout,  unless  the  soldiers  were  kept  together. 

At  this  juncture  Colonel  Logan  and  a  few  of  the 
boldest  souls,  dashed  into  the  brush,  on  horseback,  and 
cut  down  some  of  the  nearest  red  men.  As  they  per 
formed  this  bold  feat,  the  savages  held  back,  and  thus 
allowed  the  fleeing  soldiers  to  get  away.  Only  nine 
Kentuckians  were  killed,  a  few  were  wounded,  and 
the  rest  escaped  to  the  settlements.  As  for  Colonel 
Logan,  his  gallant  conduct,  when  under  stress  and  fire, 
greatly  increased  his  reputation,  and  at  the  next  gath 
ering  of  the  Kentucky  troops  he  was  unanimously 
elected  to  lead  them  against  the  red  men,  when  again 
they  should  need  chastising. 


COLONEL   BENJAMIN   LOGAN      61 

The  Indians  remained  quiescent  until  the  summer 
of  1788.  Then  the  frontier  was  again  attacked  by 
marauding  bands,  and  so  destructive  was  their  ad 
vance  that  the  pioneer  militia  had  to  be  called  out. 
Colonel  Logan  was  asked  to  lead  the  troops  against 
the  enemy. 

"  Boys,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  do  so/'  said  he. 
"  But  this  time  there  must  be  perfect  discipline  and  no 
retreating.  If  you  break  in  the  same  way  that  you 
did  in  our  attack  upon  the  Shawnee  town  I  will  not 
answer  for  your  scalps.  Let  us  have  order,  or  we  will 
never  succeed." 

"  Lead  on,  Colonel,"  cried  many.  "  You  have  the 
right  idea,  and  none  of  us  will  go  back  on  you." 

The  advance  through  the  wilderness  was  most  suc 
cessful.  Eight  towns  were  burned,  twenty  warriors 
were  killed,  and  seventy-five  prisoners  were  taken. 
The  son  of  a  chief  named  Moluntha  was  carried  off 
as  a  prisoner,  and  because  of  his  brightness  and  prom 
ise  was  kept  in  Colonel  Logan's  family.  He  was 
called  Logan,  after  his  distinguished  captor,  and  grew 
to  be  a  majestic-looking  man,  six  feet  in  height. 

As  for  the  Colonel,  he  returned  to  his  farm  after 
this  campaign  fully  satisfied  with  his  work,  and  deter 
mined  to  lead  a  quiet  existence.  This  he  was  well 
able  to  do,  for  the  red  men  had  been  so  signally  chas 
tised  that  they  no  longer  attempted  to  rob,  burn,  and 
plunder  upon  the  border.  His  namesake,  however, 
came  to  an  untimely  end. 

During  one  of  the  campaigns  by  General  Harrison 
against  the  Maumee  Indians,  Logan  —  the  redskin  — 


62         FAMOUS   FRONTIEKSMEN 

was  dispatched  by  his  superior  officer  upon  a  scouting 
expedition  with  several  companions.  They  met  a 
large  force  of  hostile  Indians  and  were  driven  in  to 
their  own  camp,  where  one  of  the  white  officers  was 
heard  to  remark : 

"  Logan  is  a  treacherous  scoundrel.  I  believe  that 
he  will  desert  to  those  of  his  own  color  at  any  mo 
ment." 

This  was  heard  by  the  red  man  and  he  was  stung 
to  the  quick. 

"  I  shall  prove  this  to  be  a  falsehood,"  said  he.  "  I 
am  true  to  my  white  brothers." 

Next  morning  he  started  towards  the  enemy  with 
some  companions  and  had  not  gone  far  when  he 
found  himself  in  an  ambuscade,  formed  by  the  famous 
chieftain  called  Winnemac.  Logan  had  the  same  cool 
courage  which  distinguished  his  white  namesake. 

"  We  are  deserting  to  our  enemies,  the  British," 
said  he.  "  We  no  longer  care  to  fight  with  the  Amer 
icans.  We  are  at  heart  your  brothers." 

Chief  Winnemac  grunted,  but  kept  a  watchful  eye 
upon  his  captives  as  he  carried  them  away.  After  the 
first  day,  however,  he  decided  to  return  the  rifles  and 
other  arms  to  the  prisoners.  He  had  counted  too 
much  upon  the  words  of  the  savage,  for  Logan  had 
determined  upon  escape. 

"  We  will  attack  our  captors  to-night,"  he  whis 
pered  to  his  two  companions,  Bright  Horn  and  Cap 
tain  Johnny.  "  There  are  seven.  We  will  wait  until 
some  leave  and  will  then  gain  our  liberty." 

As  he  had  expected,  after  the  camp-fires  had  been 


COLONEL   BENJAMIN   LOGAN      63 

lighted,  four  of  the  British  sympathizers  left,  in  order 
to  collect  fire-wood.  They  had  not  been  gone  over 
five  minutes  before  the  three  captives  had  fired  upon 
those  left  behind,  killing  all  three.  They  reloaded, 
as  the  others  came  running  to  the  camp,  fired  upon 
them,  and  forced  them  to  take  refuge  behind  some 
trees.  As  they  stood  confronting  each  other,  one  of 
the  most  wiry  and  skillful  crept  around  to  the  rear 
of  the  American  red  men,  pointed  his  rifle,  and  shot 
Logan  in  the  shoulder.  He  fell  forward,  badly 
wounded. 

Lifting  him  to  the  back  of  a  pony,  his  friends  car 
ried  him  to  the  American  camp,  where  he  was  placed 
upon  a  litter.  Captain  Johnny,  who  had  left  them 
upon  the  return  trip,  arrived  next  morning,  bringing 
with  him  the  scalp  of  Chief  Winnemac.  Logan  lin 
gered  for  a  few  days,  and  then  succumbed  to  his 
wound.  "  I  have  removed  all  suspicion  upon  my 
honor,"  said  he.  "  Now  I  am  willing  to  die.  My  two 
sons  must  be  educated  by  the  people  of  Kentucky. 

Thus  perished  the  namesake  of  the  noble-hearted 
Colonel  Logan,  who  helped  to  clear  Kentucky  of  the 
savage  tribes,  and  who  soon  afterwards  rounded  out 
his  life  of  splendid  activity,  and  died  universally  la 
mented.  To  such  pioneers  the  state  owes  a  deep  debt 
of  gratitude. 


GEORGE    ROGERS    CLARKE: 

FAMOUS    LEADER   OF   THE    BORDERLAND 
OF    KENTUCKY 

ONE  of  the  foremost  of  the  pioneers :    one  of 
the  noblest  of  men:   one  of  the  most  daring 
of  fighters :   such  was  George  Rogers  Clarke 
of  Virginia.     Like  Daniel  Boone  of  Kentucky,  Clarke 
was  not  only  a  brave  warrior  in  the  rough  and  ready 
armies  of  the  Middle  West,  but  was  also  a  potent 
factor  in  the  destinies  of  the  American  people. 

Born  in  Albemarle  County,  Virginia,  he  early 
made  his  way  to  Kentucky.  At  twenty-three  we  find 
him  engaged  as  a  surveyor  in  this  virgin  land,  and 
as  he  was  a  large  and  powerful  man  like  George 
Washington,  he  could  easily  contend  with  the  dif 
ficulties  of  his  profession.  So  inspiring,  in  fact,  was 
his  appearance,  that  he  was  entrusted  with  the  com 
mand  of  the  militia  upon  his  first  visit  to  the  border. 
He  had  a  soldierly  bearing  and  a  grave  and  thought 
ful  mien. 

After  remaining  for  a  time  in  Kentucky,  this  noble 
borderer  returned  to  Virginia  in  order  to  settle  up 
his  affairs.  He  saw  that  a  conflict  would  soon  take 
place  for  the  possession  of  the  Middle  West  between 
the  Americans,  the  French,  the  English  —  who  had  a 
chain  of  forts  extending  down  the  Mississippi  from 

64 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE. 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE    65 

Detroit,  Michigan,  to  Vincennes,  Indiana  —  and  the 
redskins.  Which  party  would  win?  That  remained 
to  be  yet  settled.  Clarke,  of  course,  sided  with  the 
American  pioneers  who  were  pressing  westward  from 
Virginia  and  Tennessee. 

"  The  Indians,"  said  he,  "  are  incited  to  burning, 
scalping,  and  murdering  our  peaceful  settlers  upon 
the  border,  by  the  tongues  of  the  British  soldiers,  who, 
supplying  them  with  food  from  their  forts,  are  con 
tinually  egging  them  on  to  rapine  and  murder.  Our 
only  salvation,  as  settlers,  lies  in  organization  and 
military  training.  We  must  equip  ourselves  with 
arms  and  ammunition  and  must  press  against  them 
before  they  grow  so  strong  that  they  can  crush 
us." 

He  suggested  that  the  Kentuckians  assemble  in 
convention,  and  that  there  they  should  discuss  the 
affairs  most  dear  to  the  hearts  of  all.  To  this  the 
people  readily  assented,  and  at  this  meeting  chose 
Clarke,  himself,  and  a  man  named  Jones,  as  delegates 
to  the  Virginia  Assembly.  They  were  to  go  to  the 
older  state  and  were  to  ask  for  five  hundred  pounds 
of  gunpowder  for  purposes  of  defense  against  the 
redskins. 

When  they  expressed  their  wants  they  were  met 
with  a  cold  reception. 

"  We  will  lend  you  this  important  supply,"  they 
were  told  by  those  in  authority.  "  But  you  must  guar 
antee  its  repayment  and  must  defray  all  expenses  con 
nected  with  its  carriage  across  the  mountains." 

Clarke  was  indignant  at  these  terms. 


66          FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

"  This  is  not  the  treatment  that  brave  borderers 
deserve,"  he  said.  "  This  should  be  a  free  offering 
to  the  men  who  stand  as  a  breastwork  between  you 
yourselves  and  the  redskins.  If  you  allow  your  out 
lying  posts  to  be  swept  away  by  the  British  and  In 
dians,  then  the  tide  of  warfare  will  roll  over  your  own 
settlements,  and  you  will  realize  —  too  late  —  the 
folly  of  your  refusal." 

To  this  remonstrance  the  council  replied  that  they 
could  not  better  their  offer. 

But  Clarke  was  a  fighter. 

"  You  do  not  realize  the  dangers  of  your  position," 
he  again  stated  to  them.  "  We  apply  to  you  for  aid 
because  you  are  nearest  and  dearest  to  us.  But  —  if 
you  refuse  us  —  we  can  go  to  New  York  and  there 
obtain  our  supplies.  We  have  pushed  into  this  coun 
try.  We  have  settled  it.  We  are  of  your  own  blood. 
We  claim  it.  A  country  which  is  not  worth  defend 
ing  is  not  worth  claiming." 

This  was  the  way  to  talk  to  the  hard-headed  Vir 
ginians.  After  an  earnest  debate  it  was  decided  to 
recall  Clarke  and  to  comply  with  his  request.  An 
order  for  five  hundred  pounds  of  powder  was  given 
to  him.  It  was  to  be  delivered  at  Pittsburgh,  subject 
to  his  demand,  and  for  use  by  the  borderers  of  Ken 
tucky. 

"  I  am  deeply  grateful  to  you,  my  brothers,"  said 
Clarke.  "  This  gift  will  be  well  used  and  my  people 
will  be  very  thankful  to  you  for  it.  God  bless  the 
noble  settlers  of  Virginia!" 

With  a  small  force  of  seven  men,  the  daring  pioneer 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE   67 

now  went  to  Fort  Pitt  for  the  powder,  and  carrying 
it  in  canoes,  safely  transported  it  to<  a  place  called 
Limestone,  Kentucky.  Indians  were  thick  in  this 
country,  and  all  were  hostile.  But  he  came  safely 
through  the  wild  places  and  carefully  secreted  the 
powder  at  various  points,  where  it  could  be  found  by 
the  borderers  when  needed. 

Daniel  Boone  was  now  an  old  man  and  was  so 
modest  that  he  refused  to  thrust  himself  forward  and 
become  a  leader  around  whom  the  settlers  could  rally. 
All  eyes,  therefore,  turned  to  Clarke,  whose  merits 
were  now  recognized  as  a  gallant  fighter  and  able  com 
mander.  The  borderers  saw  that  they  here  had  an 
unselfish  fellow  who  had  their  own  interests  in  view, 
and  who  had  obtained  well-needed  assistance  for  them. 
They  knew  that,  without  powder,  they  must  be  swept 
back  before  the  storm  of  Indian  invasion.  The  time 
for  a  leader  had  now  come,  and  destiny  had  sent  to  the 
Kentuckians  George  Rogers  Clarke  —  the  brave  and 
the  noble. 

This  soldier  now  addressed  the  settlers  upon  sev 
eral  occasions  and  in  several  different  places.  He  told 
them  that  they  must  assume  an  aggressive  attitude  and 
must  attack  the  Indian  villages,  destroy  their  crops, 
burn  their  habitations,  and  teach  them  the  horrors  of 
invasion. 

"  We  must  not  wait  to  be  attacked  ourselves,"  said 
he.  "  We  must  do  the  attacking.  We  must  strike 
before  we  are  struck,  and  must  hit  hard." 

The  Kentuckians  were  stirred  by  these  speeches^  of 
Clarke  and  swore  to  follow  him  to  the  death. 


68         FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

"  Lead  on !  Lead  on !  "  cried  they.  "  We  will  fol 
low  and  will  do  our  best  to  clear  the  land  of  our  red 
enemies." 

This  pleased  the  leader  of  the  borderers,  for  he  saw 
that  his  own  spirit  animated  his  men.  He  therefore 
wrote  to  the  Governor  of  Virginia,  telling  him  of  his 
plans  for  border  warfare,  and  requesting  aid.  Men 
and  ammunition  were  sent  him.  An  expedition  was 
speedily  organized  at  Louisville  —  then  called  the 
Falls  of  the  Ohio  —  and  the  border  soldiers  started 
down  the  stream  in  boats.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Ten 
nessee  River  a  party  of  hunters  were  met  with.  From 
them  Clarke  learned  that  the  garrisons  at  Kaskaskia 
and  Kahokia  were  fully  aware  of  his  coming  and  were 
quite  ready  to  give  his  men  a  hot  reception. 

"  The  greater  portion  of  the  French,"  said  the 
guides,  "  prefer  American  to  English  rule.  You  will 
find  no  difficulty  in  winning  them  over  to  your  cause.'* 

These  men  were  taken  along  as  scouts,  and,  creep 
ing  quietly  through  the  wilderness,  they  surrounded 
and  captured  Kaskaskia  without  shedding  a  drop  of 
blood.  So  kind  were  Clarke's  followers  to  the  inhab 
itants  that  many  accompanied  them  on  the  march  to 
Kahokia,  —  a  town  just  opposite  St.  Louis,  Missouri. 
Both  places  were  populated  mainly  by  people  of 
French  extraction  who  adhered  to  the  cause  of  France 
in  America. 

Clarke  was  a  diplomat.  Some  one  has  said  that 
"  he  eked  out  the  courage  of  a  lion  with  the  cunning 
of  a  fox."  At  any  rate,  he  knew  enough  to  make  a 
firm  friend  of  the  parish  priest,  Monsieur  Gerbault, 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE   69 

who  consented  to  go  to  Vincennes  —  in  the  absence 
of  the  British  commander,  who  had  gone  to  Detroit  — 
and  induce  the  garrison  there  to  embrace  the  cause 
of  the  Kentuckians.  He  was  successful.  After  a 
lengthy  harangue  the  fort  went  over  to  the  Americans 
and  its  command  was  given  to  a  Captain  Helm,  one 
of  Clarke's  Lieutenants. 

Clarke  had  accomplished  what  was  thought  to  be 
the  impossible.  Without  any  difficulty  whatsoever  he 
had  captured  three  forts  and  had  persuaded  all  the 
inhabitants  to  join  his  standard.  But  these  were  the 
French.  There  were  still  the  redskinned  devils  who 
would  soon  be  burning,  plundering,  and  massacring 
upon  the  borders.  Clarke  needed  more  men.  So  he 
promptly  organized  the  French  into  militia  companies 
with  which  to  garrison  the  captured  fort,  appointed 
French  officers  to  command  them,  and  was  thus  able 
to  use  all  of  his  Kentucky  backwoodsmen  in  dealing 
with  the  redskins. 

The  French  and  Spaniards  never  asked  for  peace 
from  the  Indians  but  always  harshly  demanded  what 
ever  they  might  desire.  Clarke  determined  to  adopt 
their  course.  This  kind  of  diplomacy  is  that  which 
usually  wins  with  the  American  Indian,  for  the  red 
man  could  never  comprehend  why  the  whites  would 
offer  peace  if  they  felt  at  all  certain  that  they  could 
accomplish  their  purpose  by  means  of  war.  The  In 
dians  never  made  treaties  unless  they  had  met  with  a 
reverse  and  were  in  the  presence  of  a  superior  enemy. 
When  Clarke  demanded  like  a  warrior  it  suited  their 
ideas  much  better  than  if  he  had  asked  like  a  squaw. 


70         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

We  now  come  to  the  most  extraordinary  event  in 
his  career:  an  event  which  marks  him  as  a  man  of 
courage  and  capacity.  When  things  were  going 
against  him  he  managed  to  turn  the  tide  in  his  own 
favor  with  remarkable  ability. 

Braving  great  dangers  and  privations,  he  met  the 
redskins  in  their  own  villages  and  conferred  with 
them.  Two  attempts  were  made  upon  his  life,  but 
he  escaped  all  harm  and  managed  to  secure  a  treaty 
of  peace  upon  terms  which  the  red  men  had  first 
spurned.  The  treaty  was  signed  and  Clarke's  eyes 
looked  hungrily  at  Detroit  —  the  great  stronghold 
of  the  British.  He  had  not  sufficient  men  to  take 
it. 

Two  detachments  from  his  small  army  captured  a 
British  post  on  the  upper  Wabash,  garrisoned  by 
forty  men.  This  aroused  the  British  to  greater  ac 
tivity.  The  Kentuckians  and  French  were  coming 
too  near  for  either  pleasure  or  safety.  Besides  this, 
the  savages  had  begun  to  waver  in  their  allegiance  to 
the  British  flag  as  they  saw  the  success  of  the  pioneers 
from  across  the  Ohio  River. 

Vincennes,  as  you  know,  had  gone  over  to  the 
Americans,  and  there  was  but  a  small  force  there  of 
French  militia.  Two  Americans  were  in  charge:  a 
Captain  Helm  and  a  Mr.  Henry.  On  the  fifteenth 
day  of  December,  1778,  the  English  Governor  of 
Detroit  appeared  before  the  town  with  a  large  body 
of  rangers  and  demanded  its  surrender.  The  French 
militiamen  immediately  ran  up  a  white  flag. 

Hamilton  approached  the  fort,  and  as  he  neared  it, 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE    71 

was  surprised  to  find  himself  confronted  by  a  cannon, 
behind  which  stood  Captain  Helm  with  a  lighted 
match  in  his  hand. 

"Halt!"  cried  Hamilton.  "My  foolish  feUow,  I 
demand  your  instant  surrender !  " 

"I'll  never  surrender,"  answered  Helm,  "  until  you 
settle  upon  the  terms  with  me." 

"  You'll  be  allowed  to  march  out  with  all  the  honors 
of  war,"  said  the  British  Governor.  "  And  you  will 
be  held  a  prisoner  until  exchanged.  The  militia  will 
be  disarmed  and  paroled." 

"All  right,"  answered  Captain  Helm.  "These 
terms  suit  me  exactly. 

Imagine  the  feelings  of  the  good,  old  Governor. 
Instead  of  seeing  a  great  body  of  men  debouch  from 
the  fort,  preceded  by  a  brilliant  staff,  out  marched  a 
few  ragged  militiamen  headed  by  Captain  Helm,  with 
one  solitary  private.  It  is  said  that  the  noble  soldier 
could  not  help  laughing.  At  any  rate,  he  felt  so  well 
over  the  affair  that  he  did  not  attempt  the  reduction 
of  Kaskaskia  and  Kahokia  —  as  he  should  have  done 
—  but  was  content  to  send  parties  of  his  men  on 
forays  against  the  settlements  along  the  Ohio  River. 
News  was  soon  brought  to  Clarke  of  the  capture  of 
Vincennes.  The  old  war-dog  was  much  disconcerted. 
Hamilton  in  possession  of  Vincennes!  It  was  almost 
past  belief,  yet  runners  soon  came  to  him  from  the 
frontier,  who  confirmed  the  ill  tidings.  What  was 
he  to  do?  He  had  only  two  hundred  men.  Hamil 
ton  had  three  or  four  times  that  number.  It  was  the 
middle  of  winter  and  he  was  short  of  all  manner  of 


72         FAMOUS   FRONTIEESMEN 

supplies.  The  entire  country  was  flooded.  He  had 
a  single  flat-bottomed  batteau.  Should  he  wait  to  be 
attacked,  or  should  he  attempt  the  seemingly  impos- 
ible  and  endeavor  to  re-take  Vincennes?  He  an 
swered  the  question  by  turning,  one  day,  to  his  com 
patriots,  and  saying: 

"  Whether  I  stay  here  or  march  against  Hamilton 

—  if  I  don't  take  him,  he  will  take  me.     By  Heaven, 
I'll  take  him!" 

And  to  this  his  men  cried : 
"  Lead  on !  Where  you  go  we  will  follow !  " 
Now  was  such  a  march  as  the  world  had  seldom 
seen  before.  The  brave  and  valiant  Arnold,  who  took 
his  rangers  through  the  depths  of  the  Maine  forest 
to  the  attack  on  Quebec  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Amer 
ican  Revolution,  was  such  a  one  as  this  lion-hearted 
pioneer.  Arnold  lost  a  great  many  men :  Clarke  did 
not  lose  any;  but  the  difficulties  of  the  journey  were 
severe.  Through  the  cold  of  winter,  the  chilling  rain, 
the  mud  and  icy  water,  —  the  latter  often  three  feet 
deep,  —  marched  the  Kentucky  rangers.  They 
reached  a  miserable  country  called  "the  drowned 
lands,"  and  for  miles  were  waist-deep  in  the  water. 
The  way  was  full  of  crevasses  and  mud-holes  into 
which  some  of  the  men  sank  up  to  their  necks.  Clarke 
was  always  in  the  front,  sharing  the  hardships  of  his 
followers,  and  outdoing  them  in  the  contempt  for 
peril  and  suffering.  An  occasional  spot  of  dry  ground 

—  a  few  yards  in  extent  —  was  a  welcome  sight  to 
the  half -drowned  rangers.     Still  they  pressed  onward 
upon  their  mission. 


GEOEGE  EOGEES  CLAEKE   73 

"  On,  boys !  "  said  George  Rogers  Clarke.  "  We 
will  take  this  post  or  die  in  the  attempt !  " 

Splashing  forward,  the  scouts  and  rangers  soon 
reached  the  two  branches  of  the  Wabash  River.  Or 
dinarily  three  miles  of  solid  ground  lay  between  the 
two  streams.  Now  there  was  a  continuous  sheet  of 
water  before  their  eyes.  The  command  stopped, 
amazed.  They  had  come  to  an  apparently  unsur- 
mountable  obstacle.  But  there  were  no  obstacles  to 
George  Rogers  Clarke. 

Striding  to  the  front,  and  holding  his  rifle  aloft  in 
order  to  keep  the  priming  dry,  he  dashed  into  the 
stream.  The  rest  followed  with  songs  and  with 
cheers.  But  the  chilling  water  soon  made  these  cease, 
for  it  became  an  irksome  task  to  breathe.  They  stag 
gered  with  fatigue,  but  their  leader  never  faltered, 
and  there  was  not  a  man  who  would  have  deserted 
him.  On  the  seventeenth  day  of  February  they  reached 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  Wabash  and  came  to  the 
lowlands  of  the  Embarrass  River.  It  was  nine  miles 
to  their  goal :  the  fortress  of  Vincennes.  Every  foot 
of  the  way  was  covered  with  deep  water. 

The  situation  seemed  to  be  desperate.  Clarke,  how 
ever,  was  not  the  one  to  despair.  Taking  a  canoe, 
he  made  soundings  to  see  if  some  path  might  not  be 
discovered  through  this  inland  sea.  There  seemed  to 
be  none  —  the  water  everywhere  reached  to  his  neck. 
The  men  were  alarmed.  Their  faces  looked  blanched 
and  pale.  Was  their  march  of  untold  hardships  to 
end  in  death  by  cold  and  starvation? 

A  surprising  thing  now  took  place.     Whispering  to 


74         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

those  nearest  to  him  to  follow  his  example,  Clarke 
poured  some  powder  into  his  hand,  wet  it  with  water 
and  blackened  his  face  as  a  sign  that  he  would  suc 
ceed,  or  die  in  the  attempt.  Then  —  uttering  a  loud 
whoop  —  he  dashed  into  the  water.  The  frontiers 
men  gazed  wonderingly  at  him.  Then  they  broke 
into  song,  rushed  after  him,  and  made  for  a  ridge  of 
high  ground,  which  was  followed  until  an  island  was 
reached.  Here  they  camped,  but  next  morning  the 
ice  had  formed  to  the  thickness  of  three-quarters  of 
an  inch.  You  can  well  imagine  what  were  their  pros 
pects  ! 

But  Clarke  was  never  daunted  or  dismayed.  Ma 
king  a  speech  to  his  half-starved  and  half-frozen  com 
mand,  he  again  plunged  into  the  water. 

"We  must  do  or  die!"  said  he.  "  On  to  Vin- 
cennes ! " 

With  a  rousing  cheer  his  followers  dashed  in  after 
him  —  pushed  through  the  broken  ice  —  and  waded 
ahead.  The  water  became  more  and  more  deep. 
Clarke  feared,  therefore,  that  the  weaker  members  of 
the  party  would  be  drowned.  Luckily  he  had  a  few 
canoeists  with  him,  and  these  picked  up  the  fainting 
ones  and  carried  them  to  hillocks  of  dry  land.  The 
strongest  were  sent  forward  with  instructions  to  pass 
the  word  back  that  the  water  was  getting  shallow, 
and  they  were  told  to  cry  "  Land !  Land !  "  when  they 
got  near  the  woods. 

This  cheered  the  drooping  spirits  of  the  faint 
hearted.  The  water  never  did  get  shallow.  Wood 
land  was  certainly  ahead,  but  when  the  men  reached 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE    75 

it  water  was  up  to  their  shoulders  and  they  had  to 
hang  to  the  trees,  bushes  and  logs,  until  rescued  by 
the  canoes.  Some  gained  the  shore  in  safety,  some 
were  so  exhausted  when  they  reached  a  small  island 
that  they  could  not  climb  up  the  bank  and  lay  half  in 
and  half  out  of  the  water.  Luck  was  with  them,  for 
a  canoe  came  down  the  river  in  which  were  some 
Indian  squaws  and  their  children.  They  were  cap 
tured,  and  with  them  was  some  buffalo  meat,  tallow, 
corn,  and  cooking  utensils.  Oh,  lucky  find!  The 
weak  were  now  rejuvenated  by  a  hearty  meal. 

'  They  were  upon  an  island  of  ten  acres.  It  was 
truly  an  Eden  for  these  half -drowned  frontiersmen. 
A  long  rest  soon  strengthened  the  weakest,  and  by 
means  of  the  Indian  canoe,  and  a  few  batteaus  which 
had  been  brought  with  them,  they  ferried  over  to 
Warrior's  Island,  within  two  miles  of  Vincennes,  and 
within  plain  view  of  it.  Every  man  feasted  his  eyes 
upon  the  log  fortress  and  forgot  that  he  had  suffered. 
Let  me  here  quote  from  Clarke  himself.  He  says : 
"  Every  man  forgot  his  troubles.  It  was  now  that 
we  had  to  display  our  abilities.  The  plain  between  us 
and  the  town  was  perfectly  level.  The  sunken  ground 
was  covered  with  water  full  of  ducks.  We  observed 
several  men  out  on  horseback,  shooting  them,  and 
sent  out  many  of  our  active,  young  Frenchmen  to 
decoy  and  take  one  prisoner,  —  which  they  did. 

"  We  learned  that  the  British  had  that  evening 
completed  the  wall  of  the  fort,  and  that  there  were  a 
good  many  Indians  in  town.  Our  situation  was  now 
truly  critical.  There  was  no  possibility  of  retreat  in 


76         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

case  of  defeat,  and  we  were  in  full  view  of  a  town 
with  six  hundred  men  in  it,  —  troops,  Indians  and 
inhabitants. 

"  We  were  now  in  the  very  situation  that  I  had 
labored  to  get  ourselves  in.  The  idea  of  being  taken 
prisoner  was  foreign  to  almost  every  man,  as  they 
expected  nothing  but  torture.  We  knew  that  success 
could  be  secured  only  by  the  most  daring  conduct.  I 
knew  that  a  number  of  the  inhabitants  wished  us  well : 
that  the  Grand  Chief  —  Tobacco's  son  —  had  openly 
declared  himself  a  friend  of  the  Big  Knives  (Amer 
icans).  I  therefore  wrote  and  sent  the  following 
Placard. 

"TO   THE   INHABITANTS    OF    POST 
VINCENNES : 

"  GENTLEMEN  :  —  Being  now  within  two  miles  of 
your  village  with  my  army,  determined  to  take  the 
fort  this  night,  and  not  being  willing  to  surprise  you, 
I  take  this  method  to  request  such  as  are  true  citizens 
to  remain  still  in  your  houses.  Those,  if  any  there  be, 
that  are  friends  to  the  King,  will  instantly  repair  to 
the  fort,  join  the  '  Hair  buyer  '  general,  and  fight 
like  men.  If  any  such  do  not  go,  and  are  found  after 
wards,  they  may  depend  on  severe  punishment.  On 
the  contrary,  those  who  are  true  friends  to  liberty 
may  depend  on  being  well  treated,  and  I  once  more 
request  them  to  keep  out  of  the  streets.  Every  one 
I  find  in  arms  on  my  arrival,  I  shall  treat  as  an  enemy. 

"  G.  R.  CLARKE." 


GEORGE  EOGERS  CLARKE   77 

This  was  written  by  a  pioneer  general  with  two 
hundred  half-starved,  half-frozen,  and  undrilled 
troops.  Behind  the  walls  of  the  fort  were  twice  this 
number  of  well-drilled,  well-fed,  well-clad  men.  We 
can  but  admire  his  audacity  and  impudence.  But  did 
he  fulfil  his  promises  to  his  people  at  home.  And  did 
he  take  Hamilton? 

The  frontiersmen  were  soon  in  motion  and  marched 
upon  the  town.  A  hill  intervened,  and  when  he 
reached  it,  Clarke  deployed  his  men  across  it  several 
times.  When  they  would  get  over,  Clarke  would 
run  them  around  the  base  to  the  rear  of  the  knoll  — 
where  they  would  be  out  of  sight  of  the  people  in  the 
fort  —  and  then  would  march  them  across  again.  In 
this  way  he  made  the  inmates  of  the  fortress  of  Vin- 
cennes  believe  that  he  had  a  much  larger  force  than 
was  really  his.  The  borderers  soon  seized  all  the  posi 
tions  which  commanded  the  fort  and  waited  until  dusk 
before  beginning  the  assault.  "  I  fear  that  they  will 
know  my  numbers,  if  I  attack  during  daylight/'  said 
the  Kentuckian,  "  and  this  I  do  not  want  them  to 
know." 

As  night  began  to  draw  near,  the  crashing  of  rifles 
awoke  the  echoes  of  the  forest  and  the  fort  was 
hotly  assailed  from  every  point  of  vantage.  The 
Kentuckians  were  able  marksmen  and  soon  silenced 
the  cannon  of  the  redoubt.  No  sooner  would  a  port 
hole  be  thrown  open  than  the  gunners  would  be 
shot  down  as  they  stood.  After  an  hour  of  such  work 
the  firing  ceased,  and  the  garrison  was  summoned  to 
surrender. 


78         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Hamilton  was  dumbfounded  at  the  audacity  of  the 
Kentuckians.  He  was  also  much  disconcerted  by  the 
actions  of  one  hundred  of  his  redskin  allies,  who, 
seeing  the  boldness  of  the  frontiersmen,  immediately 
transferred  their  allegiance  to  them  and  were  anx 
ious  to  join  in  the  assault  upon  the  post.  In  spite  of 
this  he  refused  to  surrender. 

A  far  heavier  rifle  fire  was  now  opened  upon  the 
fort,  so  that  no  defender  could  look  out  of  a  port 
hole  or  expose  himself  in  any  manner  whatsoever, 
without  being  shot  down.  An  assault  was  determined 
upon. 

At  this  juncture  a  couple  of  figures  emerged  from 
the  principal  gateway  of  Vincennes,  bearing  a  flag  of 
truce.  When  the  emissaries  arrived  before  Clarke, 
they  brought  word  that  Hamilton  proposed  a  three 
days'  truce  and  an  immediate  conference.  Clarke  did 
not  wish  the  British  to  know  his  real  numbers,  so  he 
declined  the  truce.  But  he  assented  to  have  a  talk 
with  the  English  commander,  some  distance  from  the 
fort,  at  a  place  where  the  Englishman's  eyes  could  not 
see  the  small  numbers  of  the  Kentuckians. 

After  a  long  interview  nothing  came  of  the  pow 
wow.  Hamilton  asked  to  march  out  with  all  the 
honors  of  war  and  to  be  allowed  to  depart  to  Detroit, 
after  giving  the  assurance  that  neither  he  nor  his  men 
would  ever  again  bear  arms  against  the  Americans. 
Clarke  was  afraid  that  the  soldiers  would  not  keep 
their  word  and  demanded  a  greater  amount  of  money 
and  stores  than  the  Britisher  was  willing  to  allow  him. 

"  I  have  sufficient  force  to  take  the  fort  by  storm 


GEORGE  EOGERS  CLARKE    79 


' 


at  any  time  I  choose,"  said  Clarke.  "  Furthermore, 
I  propose  to  capture  all  the  detached  parties  that  are 
now  in  the  woods  and  are  headed  for  Vincennes. 
Having  put  them  out  of  the  way,  I  intend  to  take 
the  fort  at  my  leisure.  I  will  thus  —  at  one  stroke  — 
put  an  end  to  all  of  those  people  that  have  been  har 
assing  the  American  frontier.  In  case  I  take  you 
by  storm,  I  intend  to  shut  my  eyes  and  let  my  men 
do  their  own  pleasure,  for  such  is  the  treatment  that 
has  been  accorded  to  our  own  people  by  the  officers 
of  the  Crown/' 

The  conference  broke  up,  and  so  terrified  was  a 
Major  Hay,  who  represented  the  English  commander, 
that  he  could  scarcely  make  his  way  back  to  Vincennes. 
As  he  wobbled  along,  a  party  of  redskins  —  led  by  a 
white  man  painted  as  an  Indian  —  was  seen  to  ap 
proach  the  town.  The  newcomers  apparently  had  no 
knowledge  that  the  Kentuckians  were  foes,  for  they 
walked  up  as  if  they  were  nearing  their  own  people. 

When  they  had  approached  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  men  under  Clarke,  they  were  fired  upon  and  two 
were  killed.  Three  others  were  badly  wounded.  The 
remainder  —  six  in  all  —  turned  in  flight,  but  were 
soon  taken  prisoners.  They  were  tomahawked  by  the 
red  allies  of  the  Kentuckians;  their  bodies  were 
thrown  into  the  river;  and  wild  war-whoops  an 
nounced  this  fact  to  the  red  men  in  the  fort.  These 
became  enraged  and  frightened  when  they  discovered 
that  Hamilton  was  unable  to  protect  them. 

Clarke  only  smiled,  for  he  had  hoped  that  they 
would  bring  on  a  mutiny  within  the  walls  of  Vin- 


80         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

cennes,  and  it  is  exactly  what  occurred.  Seeing  that 
he  was  unable  to  hold  the  allegiance  of  his  own  red 
adherents,  the  once  bold  Hamilton  decided  upon  capit 
ulation.  On  February  twenty-fourth  a  white  flag  was 
displayed  over  the  log  walls,  and,  after  a  short  parley, 
a  truce  was  decided  upon.  The  Kentuckians  secured 
fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  military  stores.  Be 
sides  this  they  detached  the  Indians  from  the  Eng 
lish  and  took  away  from  the  Britons  the  entire  north 
east  territory,  which  would  otherwise  have  been  held 
by  them  when  peace  was  concluded.  Clarke,  with  his 
two  hundred  raw  Kentucky  riflemen,  had  won  a  nota 
ble  victory. 

Think  of  it !  The  long  march,  the  terrible  rivers  of 
frozen  ice,  the  lack  of  proper  food,  the  toilsome  jour 
ney  through  deep  forests!  Then  the  cheek  and  gall 
of  that  saucy  message  to  Hamilton,  safe  in  a  strong 
fortress  with  twice  the  number  of  men  as  those  half- 
frozen  backwoodsmen  outside!  Then  the  daring  at 
tack,  the  wonderful  accuracy  of  the  rifle  fire,  and  the 
final  victory!  Such  men  were  heroes.  Whether  your 
sympathies  be  with  Kentuckian  or  Britisher,  you  must 
admit  it,  and  you  must  —  I  own  —  take  off  your  hat 
to  Clarke:  the  twenty-seven  year  old  leader  of  this 
gallant  band. 

But  what  of  the  subsequent  career  of  this  wonder 
fully  successful  man?  Alas!  What  we  know  of  his 
thereafter  does  not  abound  to  his  credit.  To  the 
enthusiasm  of  youth  he  joined  the  daring  ambition  of 
the  born  soldier :  never  satisfied.  Always  anxious  to 
move  forward  and  on,  toe  asked  the  Kentucky  Assem- 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE   81 

bly  for  men  and  agreed  to  capture  Detroit ;  to  destroy 
the  English  power  for  all  time;  and  to  prevent  fur 
ther  combination  of  unfriendly  tribes  of  red  men. 
He  was  promised  both  soldiers  and  ammunition,  but 
they  never  came.  It  is  said  that  in  disgust  at  his 
forced  inaction  he  took  to  drink  for  relief  from  his 
worries.  He  became  dissipated,  morbid,  and  a  recluse. 

For  some  time  he  rested  in  inactivity  near  the  Falls 
of  the  Ohio,  and  about  the  year  1780  built  Fort  Jef 
ferson  on  the  Mississippi.  He  then  journeyed  to 
Richmond,  Virginia,  in  order  to  appeal  in  person  for 
the  necessary  means  for  taking  Detroit.  His  plans 
were  thought  well  of  and  were  approved.  But  the 
measure  never  passed  the  legislature.  Before  it  could 
be  put  into  effect  he  was  appointed  to  command  a  body 
of  troops  who  were  to  check  the  aggressive  operations 
of  Benedict  Arnold.  He  was  made  a  Brigadier- 
General  and  was  authorized  to  collect  a  large  force, 
which  was  to  meet  at  Louisville  (the  Falls  of  the 
Ohio)  and  was  to  fall  upon  Detroit  and  destroy  this 
strong  citadel  of  British  authority. 

Misfortune  seemed  to  follow  upon  his  footsteps. 
The  force  was  never  collected  and  the  projected  cam 
paign  had  to  be  abandoned.  He  and  his  men  had 
several  brushes  with  marauding  bands  of  Ohio  In 
dians,  and  in  1782  took  part  in  the  unfortunate  battle 
of  Blue  Licks,  in  Kentucky.  Rallying  a  detachment 
of  one  thousand  men,  Clarke  invaded  the  Indian  towns, 
but  the  savages  fled  from  their  villages  and  scattered, 
so  that  there  was  no  one  to  fight  when  the  borderers 
entered.  Fortune  had  forsaken  George  Rogers  Clarke, 


82         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

and,  although  in  1786  he  led  another  expedition  of 
one  thousand  men  against  the  Indians  on  the  Wabash 
River,  it  resulted  in  an  absolute  failure.  His  follow 
ers  were  mutinous.  The  campaign  had  to  be  aban 
doned.  The  hero  who  could  inspire  a  march  of  two 
hundred  miles  through  half-frozen  forests  had  lost  his 
former  magnetism.  He  had  begun  to  go  down  hill. 

Dispirited,  somewhat  broken  in  health,  and  faint 
hearted,  the  bold  frontiersman  sought  the  seclusion  of 
his  hut  near  the  Ohio  River.  Here  he  was  offered  and 
accepted  a  commission  in  the  French  armies  west  of 
the  Mississippi,  for  this  land  was  then  under  the  lilies 
of  France.  An  expedition  was  about  to  be  made 
against  the  Spaniards  upon  the  lower  reaches  of  the 
river,  but  a  revolution  in  France  overturned  the  party 
in  power  and  destroyed  all  the  plans  of  those  in  Amer 
ica.  Clarke  was  soon  no  longer  Major  General,  and, 
forced  to  a  life  of  inactivity,  he  returned  to  an  iso 
lated  and  lonely  existence  in  his  log  hut.  At  forty 
years  of  age  he  was  a  prematurely  old  man,  and  in 
1817  he  died  at  Louisville,  Kentucky:  a  town  which 
was  growing  rapidly  in  size  and  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  many  of  his  early  triumphs.  Exposure  and 
neglect  of  the  proper  laws  of  living  had  done  their 
work. 

George  Rogers  Clarke  was  a  remarkable  man.  As 
a  youngster  he  was  brimful  of  enthusiasm,  of  vigor, 
of  magnetism.  He  carried  an  expedition  through  to 
success  in  the  face  of  fearful  obstacles.  Had  he  shown 
the  white  feather  for  an  instant  he  would  have  met 
with  ignominious  failure.  His  courage,  his  cheerful- 


GEORGE  ROGERS  CLARKE   83 

ness,  his  optimism  impelled  him  on  to  victory.  Had 
he  been  able  to  govern  his  appetite  for  liquor  he  would 
have  been  a  man  of  splendid  usefulness  in  his  later 
years.  His  collapse  at  the  early  age  of  forty  is  full 
witness  to  the  deplorable  effects  of  the  inability  of  a 
strong  man  to  curb  his  passions.  One  can  but  look 
upon  his  career  with  sadness  and  regret. 


JOHN    SLOVER: 

SCOUT   UNDER   CRAWFORD    AND    HERO 
OF    EXTRAORDINARY    ADVENTURES 

TWO  red  men  paddled  down  the  White  River, 
far  in  the  western  portion  of  the  state  of 
Virginia,  one  bright  morning  in  the  month 
of  May,  1765.  As  they  rounded  a  bend  in  the  stream, 
before  them  was  a  little  trapper's  son,  apparently  with 
no  one  with  him.  He  was  throwing  pebbles  into  the 
water  and  was  laughing  as  they  splashed  upon  the  sur 
face  of  the  stream. 

"  How !  "  grunted  one  of  the  braves.  "  I  like  to 
have  young  paleface  in  my  lodge.  I  make  him  take 
the  place  of  my  own  papoose,  whom  the  Great  Spirit 
has  stolen  from  me." 

"  You  can  get  him,"  suggested  the  other.  "  Come 
on,  let  us  paddle  towards  the  little  one  and  capture 
him." 

As  the  redskins  approached,  the  boy  looked  at  them 
with  no  sign  of  fear,  and  laughed  at  their  solemn- 
looking  faces.  But  they  did  not  laugh.  Instead  of 
this,  the  one  in  the  bow  leaped  upon  the  shore,  seized 
the  youngster,  and  carried  him  to  the  canoe,  where 
he  was  bound  by  deer  thongs  and  was  quickly  paddled 
down  stream.  His  parents  looked  for  him  in  vain 
that  evening,  and  for  many  evenings,  but  their  little 

84 


JOHN    SLOVER. 


JOHN    SLOVER  85 

son  never  returned.  Thus  John  Slover  became  a  ward 
of  the  redskins. 

The  Indians  were  then  living  at  Sandusky,  upon 
the  Ohio  River,  and  here  the  little  white  boy  grew 
up  to  be  a  man.  Adopted  by  the  Miami  tribe,  he 
learned  to  love  their  ways,  to  live  the  wild,  roving 
life  as  a  trapper  and  hunter,  and  to  be  more  at  home 
in  the  forest  than  in  the  houses  of  those  of  his  own 
race.  In  the  autumn  of  1773,  a  treaty  was  made  at 
Pittsburg,  Pennsylvania,  between  the  Miamis  and  the 
whites,  and  at  this  place  was  a  big  gathering  of  the 
savages  and  frontiersmen,  with  their  families.  Jack 
Slover  was  interested  in  the  affair  and  hung  around 
the  clusters  of  talkers,  who  were  eagerly  discussing 
the  terms  of  the  articles  of  agreement. 

"  Hello !  "  came  a  voice,  as  he  was  near  one  ani 
mated  group.  "If  this  isn't  little  Jack  Slover  grown 
to  be  a  man !  Turn  around,  son,  and  see  if  you  don't 
recognize  me." 

The  adopted  ward  of  the  Miamis  spun  about  upon 
his  heel,  and  there  saw  a  raw-boned  trapper,  who  was 
gazing  at  him  with  an  inquiring  eye. 

"  I  certainly  do  not  recognize  you,"  he  replied. 
"  Who  are  you,  anyway?  " 

The  young  fellow  knew  of  his  kidnapping,  when 
a  small  boy,  but  had  never  cared  to  go  back  to  his  own 
people. 

The  frontiersman  now  seized  him  by  the  shoulders. 
"Why,  I'm  your  father's  brother,  Tom  Slover!  I 
saw  that  you  were  not  a  Miami  the  minute  I  looked 
at  you,  and  I  found  out  that  you  had  been  captured 


86         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

many  years  ago  by  the  Indians.  Upon  closer  inspec 
tion  it  was  easy  to  perceive  that  you  were  my  brother's 
son.  My  boy,  we  have  been  waiting  to  find  you  for 
years.  You  will  now  come  back  to  us,  won't  you?  " 

Young  Slover  hung  his  head,  for  he  was  loath  to 
part  from  the  friends  and  companions  of  his  youth. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  refusing,  but,  just  then,  an 
other  frontiersman  approached  who  announced  that 
he  was  his  father.  The  meeting  between  son  and 
parent  was  not  demonstrative;  in  fact,  the  youth 
rather  drew  away  from  his  own  flesh  and  blood. 
Soon,  however,  he  became  more  reconciled,  and,  after 
an  hour's  conversation,  agreed  to  accompany  his  kins 
men  to  their  home  in  Westmoreland  County,  Penn 
sylvania. 

The  conference  was  soon  over,  both  Indians  and 
whites  were  agreed  upon  the  terms  of  the  treaty,  and 
the  captured  son  of  the  pioneer  went  back  to  his  own 
country,  where  he  seemed  to  be  contentedly  abiding 
at  the  outbreak  of  the  American  Revolution.  He  was 
one  of  the  first  to  enlist,  and,  because  of  his  experience 
in  woodcraft,  was  made  a  sharpshooter.  In  this 
branch  of  the  service  he  did  good  work,  and  was  hon 
orably  discharged  at  the  close  of  the  struggle  with 
the  Mother  Country. 

Some  years  after  the  Revolutionary  War  —  in  1782 
—  the  redskins  of  the  Middle  West  became  very  bold, 
and  made  frequent  inpursions  upon  the  white  settle 
ments  of  Ohio,  Pennsylvania,  and  West  Virginia. 
Prompt  vengeance  was  demanded  by  the  pioneers  who 
had  penetrated  into  the  wilderness  and  had  there  built 


JOHN   SLOVER  87 

their  homes.  An  expedition  was  determined  upon, 
and  Colonel  William  Crawford  —  a  brave  officer  of 
the  Revolutionary  War  —  was  selected  as  its  com 
mander.  The  time  and  place  of  rendezvous  were 
fixed  for  May  2Oth,  1782,  at  a  point  on  the  western 
shore  of  the  Ohio,  forty  miles  above  Fort  Pitt.  There 
were  four  hundred  and  fifty  volunteers;  among  them 
an  accomplished  surgeon,  Dr.  Knight. 

Just  before  the  expedition  got  under  way,  Colonel 
Crawford  approached  Slover,  and  said: 

"  My  good  friend,  we  are  in  need  of  a  scout  and 
guide  upon  our  expedition.  You  know  this  country 
like  a  book,  so  I  would  like  to  engage  you  as  one  of 
our  forerunners  and  assistants.  Will  you  go  with 
us?" 

The  adopted  ward  of  the  Miamis  was  reluctant  to 
accept. 

"  I  have  lived  with  these  Indians  whom  you  intend 
to  attack,"  said  he.  "  I  have  slept  with  them ;  hunted 
with  them ;  have  eaten  with  them.  Surely  you  would 
not  have  me  turn  upon  all  of  my  old  friends?" 

The  Colonel  smiled. 

"Yes,  but  what  sort  of  friends?"  he  answered. 
"  Here  they  have  been  murdering  innocent  women 
and  children.  Have  been  burning  homes,  killing  cat 
tle  and  horses.  They  have  been  subjecting  their  pris 
oners  to  horrible  tortures.  You  are  too  much  of  a 
man  not  to  appreciate  the  need  of  checking  these  on 
slaughts  upon  our  people." 

"  The  whites  are  gradually  encroaching  upon  their 
lands,  —  the  lands  which  they  believe  that  the  Great 


88         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Spirit  has  given  to  them,"  replied  Slover,  in  a  delib 
erate  tone.  "  Can  you  blame  them  for  resenting  these 
advances?  They  are  children,  too,  of  the  wilderness 
and  they  fight  like  the  wild  beasts  who  surround 
them."  ' 

"  Then  you  refuse  to  accompany  us?" 

"  No,  not  so.  Upon  thinking  over  the  matter,  I 
believe  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  two  races  to  live 
side  by  side,  unless  one  race  is  supreme.  That  the 
whites  will  overrun  the  country  is  only  too  evident.  I 
will  go  with  you,  for  I  certainly  do  not  approve  of 
the  manner  in  which  they  have  conducted  their  war 
fare,  and  I  believe  that  they  must  be  punished." 

The  march  was  soon  commenced,  but,  in  a  few 
days,  some  of  the  volunteers  broke  ranks  and  started 
for  their  homes.  It  was  impossible  to  hold  them. 
Further  signs  of  insubordination  were  soon  in  evi 
dence,  some  of  the  men  demanding  that  they  be  sent 
back  to  their  cabins,  declaring  that  their  horses  were 
jaded  and  that  their  provisions  were  almost  exhausted. 
Not  long  afterwards  two  skulking  Indians  were  seen 
spying  upon  the  advance.  They  were  fired  upon,  but 
escaped.  It  was  now  evident  that  all  secrecy  was  out 
of  the  question.  The  men  grew  mutinous  and  were 
so  unruly  that  the  officers  requested  them  to  continue 
for  only  one  day  longer,  and  then  if  no  Indians  were 
found  they  were  to  return.  This  was  being  discussed 
when  one  of  the  advance  pickets  dashed  in,  crying  out : 
"  The  Indians  are  ahead  of  us  about  a  mile.  They 
are  drawn  up  in  the  timber  and  are  waiting  for  us ! " 

At  this  news  a  loud  whoop  came  from  the  lusty 


JOHN    SLOVBR  89 

throats  of  the  frontiersmen,  and  they  discontinued 
their  complaints.  Priming  their  rifles  and  fingering 
their  powder-horns,  they  pressed  forward  to  the  at 
tack,  while  their  leader,  Crawford,  who  had  fine  mili 
tary  judgment,  saw  that  the  enemy  had  seized  a  posi 
tion  of  great  strength,  from  which  they  must  be  driven 
at  once.  He  therefore  urged  on  his  men  to  the  charge. 

As  the  order  came,  the  pioneers  dismounted  and 
rushed  boldly  upon  the  redskins  in  front  and  upon  the 
flanks,  hunting  them  from  the  woods,  across  an  open 
field,  and  into  some  dense  forest-land  in  the  rear. 
Here  the  savages  were  heavily  reinforced,  and  Craw 
ford's  Rangers  were  almost  driven  from  the  timber  by 
the  wily  braves,  who  were  now  fighting  from  every 
bush,  stump,  hillock  and  tree.  The  battle  waged  with 
great  fury  until  dark,  when  the  savages  withdrew, 
and  the  trappers  slept  upon  the  ground,  ready  to  re 
sume  the  affair  in  the  morning. 

As  daylight  appeared  the  battle  was  renewed  at 
long  range,  neither  side  being  anxious  for  a  hand- 
to-hand  engagement.  It  was  plainly  evident  that  the 
Indians  were  constantly  being  reinforced.  Their 
whooping  and  yelling  grew  more  and  more  derisive, 
and  they  began  to  extend  their  lines  so  as  to  flank  the 
men  of  the  frontier.  For  this  reason,  the  officers 
decided  upon  a  retreat. 

Slover,  the  scout,  was  far  over  to  the  right,  watch 
ing  some  horses,  and  no  news  of  the  intended  move- 
men  was  brought  to  him.  Soon  the  uproar  of  retreat 
came  to  his  ears  and  warned  him  of  his  danger.  He 
therefore  selected  the  finest  horse  among  those  under 


90         FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMBN 

his  charge,  mounted  it,  and  fled  after  his  comrades, 
who  became  rapidly  disorganized.  The  red  men  fired 
a  volley  in  the  direction  of  the  frontiersmen,  at  which 
one  of  the  Crawford  Rangers  shouted :  "  The  enemy 
have  found  out  our  design!  Save  yourselves!  Save 
yourselves ! " 

Panic  now  became  general,  and  so  great  was  the 
disorder  that  it  was  plainly  heard  in  the  lines  of  the 
Indians,  among  whom  was  the  famous  renegade, 
Simon  Girty.  "  Out,  men,"  he  cried,  "  and  pick  up 
the  stragglers,  for  these  Americans  have  whipped 
themselves ! " 

Those  who  had  been  wounded  were  dropped  at  the 
beginning  of  the  rout  and  were  speedily  dispatched 
by  the  tomahawks  of  the  savages.  The  rest  fled  in 
whatever  way  they  could,  without  semblance  of  order 
or  discipline,  and,  as  they  ran  helter-skelter  through 
the  forest,  were  pursued  by  the  exultant  redskins  with 
wild  and  blood-curdling  whooping.  Slover  galloped 
along  with  some  difficulty,  as  the  ground  was  very 
rough,  and  soon  found  further  obstructions  in  his  path, 
for  a  wide  bog  lay  before  him,  which  extended  for 
a  great  distance  in  either  direction. 

Some  of  the  fugitives  were  unable  to  get  across  the 
bog  on  foot,  but  Slover  and  a  few  others  were  able 
to  cross  on  their  horses.  As  they  fled  on  through  the 
darkness  of  night,  behind  them  echoed  the  horrid  yells 
of  the  savages,  the  rifle  shots  of  the  whites,  and  the 
shrieks  of  the  wounded.  Six  fugitives  joined  the  flee 
ing  scout,  two  of  whom  had  lost  their  rifles,  and,  as 
the  Indians  were  pressing  them  furiously,  they  headed 


JOHN   SLOVEE  91 

for  the  settlement  of  Detroit,  hoping  to  elude  the 
red  men  as  they  went.  They  ran  into  another  portion 
of  the  swamp  a  few  hours  later,  and  halted  there  for 
a  slight  repast  of  cold  pork  and  corn  bread  —  of  which 
they  had  a  small  supply  in  their  haversacks. 

As  they  were  seated  upon  some  stumps,  and  were 
munching  their  repast,  they  were  startled  by  an  In 
dian  whoop  very  close  at  hand. 

"  We  are  discovered,"  whispered  Slover.  "  Hide 
yourselves,  my  men,  in  the  tall  grass." 

Not  many  moments  afterwards,  a  band  of  Shaw- 
nees  passed  by,  laughing  and  talking  among  them 
selves,  apparently  with  no  idea  that  the  pioneers  were 
near.  They  were  well  satisfied  with  the  signal  defeat 
which  they  had  administered  to  Crawford  and  his 
men;  had  many  scalps  and  much  plunder.  When 
they  were  gone,  Slover  and  his  companions  continued 
on  their  way,  entering  upon  a  sea  of  waving  grass, 
which  made  it  evident  that  any  skulking  red  men 
would  soon  discover  their  whereabouts. 

Silently  they  plodded  across  the  prairie,  but  sud 
denly  the  man  in  advance  called  their  attention  to  the 
fact  that  some  moving  objects  were  approaching. 

"  Lie  low,  boys !  "  he  shouted.  "  I  think  that  a 
crowd  of  redskins  are  just  in  front  of  us." 

He  was  right,  and,  as  they  hid  in  the  tall  grass,  a 
troop  of  Indians  passed  by,  moving  rapidly  and  noisily 
along.  Fortunately  the  red  men  did  not  discover 
their  -trail,  and  with  great  shouting  and  singing  had 
soon  walked  out  of  hearing.  The  trappers  arose,  con 
tinued  their  flight,  and  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  ene- 


92         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

mies.  They  were  soon  to  meet  with  more  children  of 
the  forest. 

Two  of  the  fugitives  now  became  very  lame  and 
were  unable  to  keep  up  with  the  rest  of  the  party.  One 
had  a  bad  attack  of  rheumatism;  so  bad,  in  fact,  that 
he  fell  way  behind  the  rest  and  did  not  come  up, 
although  they  whistled,  called,  and  strove  to  attract 
his  attention  in  every  possible  way,  in  spite  of  the 
danger  of  being  discovered  by  lurking  redskins.  They 
finally  went  on  without  him,  and  gave  him  up  for  lost. 
He  at  length  reached  Wheeling  in  safety,  having 
passed  through  many  dangers  and  hair-breadth  es 
capes  from  capture  by  roving  Indians. 

Slover  and  his  friend  were  hurrying  towards  the 
settlements,  and  naturally  left  a  well-defined  trail 
behind  them.  This  was  followed  for  several  days  by  a 
band  of  Shawnees,  who  finally  decided  that  the  whites 
would  be  easy  to  capture  and  decided  to  ambush  them. 

This  they  did,  and,  as  the  frontiersmen  were  quietly 
passing  between  some  high  bluffs,  a  volley  rang  out 
from  either  side  and  two  of  their  number  fell  dead. 
The  rest  sprang  immediately  to  the  shelter  of  trees, 
where  Slover  took  aim  at  one  of  the  Indians  who 
could  be  seen  raising  his  hand. 

"  Do  not  fire,"  said  he,  in  excellent  English.  "  If 
you  surrender  to  us,  you  will  be  well  treated.  We 
will  take  you  to  our  houses  and  will  allow  you  to  leave, 
in  a  short  time,  for  your  own  people." 

Slover  and  two  of  the  frontiersmen  gave  themselves 
up  immediately,  but  a  young  fellow  named  John  Paul 
refused  to  do  so,  and,  rushing  to  the  rear,  managed 


JOHN    SLOVER  93 

to  get  away.  The  redskins  peppered  the  air  with  bul 
lets,  but  none  hit  the  fugitive  and  he  got  safely  beyond 
range.  After  a  long  and  arduous  trip  through  the 
wilderness,  he  at  length  reached  the  frontier  settlement 
at  Wheeling,  West  Virginia. 

As  John  Slover  and  his  companions  were  being 
taken  along  by  the  Indians,  one  of  them  recognized 
him  as  the  young  paleface  who  had  been  brought  up 
by  the  Miamis. 

"  You  no  good,  Mannuchcothe,"  said  he.  "  You 
fight  against  your  own  brothers.  You  kill  your  own 
people.  Ugh !  Ugh !  We  fix  you  for  this." 

John  Slover  began  to  think  that  perhaps  what  the 
savages  had  promised  was  not  to  take  place,  and  when 
once  they  came  in  sight  of  their  town,  their  whole 
demeanor  changed.  They  began  to  howl  and  cry  out : 

"  You  are  some  of  those  who  wish  to  drive  us  from 
our  country.  Death  to  you !  Death  to  you !  " 

The  squaws,  warriors,  and  children  came  running 
to  meet  the  captives  and  began  to  whip  and  beat  them. 
Then  they  took  the  oldest  of  the  frontiersmen  and 
blackened  his  face  with  charred  sticks. 

"Are  they  going  to  burn  me,  Slover?"  the  poor 
fellow  gasped. 

"  Do  not  answer,  Mannuchcothe !  "  shouted  the  In 
dians.  "  Do  not  answer !  We  will  not  hurt  him !  We 
will  adopt  him !  " 

The  red  men  now  took  the  prisoners  to  Waughco- 
tomoco,  another  of  their  towns,  about  two  miles  off, 
but  sent  a  runner  in  advance  to  announce  their  com 
ing.  As  the  captives  came  in  sight  of  it  they  saw 


94         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

hundreds  of  Indians  in  a  double  line,  ready  to  make 
them  run  the  gauntlet.  This  they  did,  and  although 
Slover  got  through  safely,  the  frontiersman  whose 
face  had  been  blackened,  was  knocked  down,  kicked, 
beaten,  and  shot  full  of  arrows.  He  reached  the  coun 
cil  chamber,  where  he  thought  that  he  would  be  safe, 
and,  although  he  seized  one  of  the  posts  with  both 
hands,  he  was  torn  away  from  it  and  was  soon  dis 
patched  with  a  tomahawk. 

Slover,  meanwhile,  was  left  alone,  but  he  had  no 
cheerful  thoughts,  for  before  him  lay  the  bodies  of 
Harold,  the  son  of  Crawford,  the  American  leader; 
of  a  Colonel  Harrison;  and  of  several  other  promi 
nent  soldiers  of  the  American  army.  They  had  all 
been  killed  during  the  retreat.  His  remaining  com 
panion  was  led  away  to  another  town  and  was  never 
again  heard  of;  while  the  gallant  scout,  himself,  was 
now  confronted  by  a  young  Miami  buck,  who  said  in 
the  Indian  language : 

"  Mannuchcothe,  you  must  come  before  a  council 
and  must  explain  to  the  old  men  why  you  deserted  our 
tribe.  Mannuchcothe,  it  will  go  ill  with  you." 

The  sharpshooter  did  not  worry,  for  he  did  not 
believe  that  his  old  friends  would  go  back  on  him. 
In  this  he  was  correct,  for  there  seemed  to  be  no  great 
amount  of  malice  towards  the  ex-Miami,  until  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  white  renegade  —  James  Girty  —  the 
brother  of  the  famous  Simon.  This  scoundrel  made 
an  impassioned  speech,  in  which  he  said : 

"  My  Indian  brethren,  this  white  captive  should 
suffer  death.  For  not  only  has  he  deserted  you  for 


JOHN   SLOVER  95 

your  enemies  —  the  palefaces  —  but  when  I  asked 
him  how  he  would  like  to  live  with  you  again,  he  told 
me  that  he  would  care  to  remain  only  long  enough  to 
take  a  scalp  and  then  escape.  He  is  your  enemy  at 
heart  and  has  even  now  been  righting  against  you. 
Death,  and  torture  before  death,  would  not  be  too 
severe  for  him." 

The  scout  was  outraged  and  angered  by  these  re 
marks. 

"  What  you  say  is  not  true,"  he  replied.  "  I  have 
never  in  my  life  made  the  statement  that  I  would  only 
remain  long  enough  with  my  red  brethren  to  take  a 
scalp  and  then  escape.  I  entered  this  war  with  reluc 
tance,  and  I  had  not  fired  a  shot  up  to  the  time  that 
I  was  captured  by  my  old  companions.  I  am  a  friend 
of  the  Miamis  and  always  will  be  their  friend." 

To  these  remarks  the  red  men  grunted  an  assent 
and  allowed  him  to  move,  unbound,  around  the  vil 
lage.  He  was  assigned  to  a  lodge  with  an  old  squaw, 
who  became  very  much  attached  to  him,  and,  not 
many  days  afterwards,  came  to  him  and  said :  — 

"  That  James  Girty  is  influencing  my  brothers 
against  you.  If  you  have  a  chance  to  escape,  you 
must  do  so,  for  I  fear  that  they  intend  to  put  you  out 
of  the  way." 

Not  long  afterwards  a  council  of  Shawnee,  Wyan- 
dot,  Delaware,  Chippewa,  Miami,  and  Mingo  braves 
decided  that  Slover  had  been  untrue  to  their  race,  and 
that  he  must  suffer  punishment  and  death.  Two  war 
riors  appeared  before  his  wigwam  in  order  to  carry 
him  away,  but  the  old  squaw  covered  him  with  her 


96         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

blanket  and  said  that  he  should  not  go.  When  the 
two  bucks  endeavored  to  enter,  she  threw  a  pot  of 
boiling  water  at  them. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  warriors,  who  retreated 
before  the  scalding  fluid,  but  they  soon  returned  with 
James  Girty  and  forty  Indians,  who  overpowered  the 
fighting  squaw.  Slover  was  seized,  bound,  and  his 
body  was  painted  black.  This  was  a  sign  that  he  was 
to  be  tortured  and  eventually  killed. 

Five  miles  from  Waughcotomoco  was  another  In 
dian  town,  to  which  the  scout  was  marched.  A  vast 
number  of  red  men  greeted  his  coming  with  fierce 
cheering,  and  formed  in  two  lines  in  order  to  make 
him  run  the  gauntlet.  As  he  raced  between  them,  they 
struck  him  with  clubs,  with  spears,  and  with  their 
hands.  In  spite  of  this  he  was  not  badly  hurt  and 
could  walk  without  assistance  to  another  small  town, 
two  miles  further  on,  where  —  in  an  unfinished  coun 
cil  house  —  he  was  fastened  to  a  stake.  Brush  was 
piled  around  his  feet  and  this  was  lighted  for  his 
torture.  "  I  will  meet  death  like  a  brave  man,"  said 
Slover  to  himself.  Then,  turning  to  the  Indians,  he 
cried  out :  "  You  shall  rue  the  day  that  ever  you  put 
an  end  to  John  Slover.  My  white  brothers  will 
avenge  me  a  hundredfold." 

An  Indian  orator  arose,  and,  with  a  fierce  and  vin 
dictive  speech,  sought  to  fan  the  flame  of  the  red 
men's  passions  to  the  highest  pitch. 

"  How !  How !  "  cried  many  voices.  "  It  is  well 
that  the  white  man  should  die.  How !  How !  " 

Slover  glowered  upon  the  yelling  mob  as  the  crack- 


JOHN   SLOVER  97 

ling  flames  began  to  creep  nearer  to  his  feet.  But 
now  an  unexpected  interposition  of  nature  occurred, 
which  was  greatly  in  the  victim's  favor. 

A  high  wind  arose ;  dense,  black  clouds  covered  the 
sky;  the  growling  of  thunder  drowned  the  words  of 
the  orator  and  the  yelling  of  his  hearers.  A  sheet  of 
rain  burst  upon  the  fire  at  the  stake,  extinguishing 
it  completely,  and  Slover  saw  the  Indians  scatter  to 
the  cover  of  their  wigwams,  where  they  called  out 
to  him: 

"  We  will  burn  you  to-morrow.  The  Great  Spirit 
has  helped  you,  but  he  cannot  save  you." 

The  shower  lasted  for  over  an  hour,  and  when  it 
had  concluded  the  red  men  gathered  around  the  stake, 
where  they  beat  and  kicked  their  captive  until  eleven 
o'clock  at  night.  Then  a  brave  called  Half  Moon 
asked  him  if  he  did  not  want  to  go  to  sleep. 

"  I  am  exhausted,"  replied  the  scout.  "If  you  in 
tend  to  kill  me  to-morrow,  loosen  my  bonds  and  let 
me  rest." 

Half  Moon  untied  the  strands  which  bound  the 
weakened  frontiersman,  carried  him  to  a  log  hut,  and 
there  bound  him  to  a  pole  in  the  centre,  with  deer 
thongs  which  cut  tightly  into  his  flesh.  A  rope  was 
placed  about  his  neck  and  was  tied  to  a  rafter  of  the 
house.  Three  guards  were  placed  to  watch  him,  and, 
as  Half  Moon  departed,  he  said: 

"  Get  a  good  sleep,  paleface.  You  will  need  it,  for 
to-morrow  you  will  eat  fire.  This  is  what  comes  to 
you  for  fighting  against  your  own  people." 

The  scout  had  not  yet  lost  all  hope  of  making  his 


98         FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

escape,  and  carefully  considered  the  possibility  of 
getting  away.  Two  of  his  guards  were  soon  asleep; 
the  third  (an  aged  brave)  smoked  a  long,  clay  pipe 
and  told  him  that  he  had  seen  many  palefaces  tor 
tured  at  the  stake.  "  Some  weep  like  squaws,"  said 
he.  "  Others  bear  it  like  men.  You  have  once  been 
a  redskin  and  should  be  able  to  stand  the  fire  with 
out  crying.  You  should  come  through  without  a  bit 
of  trouble." 

On  and  on  he  thus  rambled  until  he  became  worn 
out  —  his  head  dropped  upon  his  breast  —  and  he 
began  to  snore  loudly.  As  the  noise  of  his  heavy 
breathing  came  to  the  ears  of  the  scout,  he  began  to 
work  vigorously  at  his  bonds.  By  wriggling,  tug 
ging,  and  pulling,  at  last  his  hands  were  free.  He 
reached  for  the  thong  about  his  neck  and  began  to 
chew  it  with  his  teeth. 

As  he  turned  and  twisted  in  an  endeavor  to  free 
himself  from  this  remaining  bond,  day  began  to  break 
and  the  pale  light  of  dawn  flooded  the  cabin.  The 
talkative  old  Indian  awoke;  yawned;  stretched;  and 
looked  around  at  the  captive;  but  Slover  clasped  his 
hands  behind  his  back  as  if  they  were  still  tied,  and 
stood  perfectly  still.  The  red  man  turned  over  upon 
his  side  and  again  composed  himself  in  sleep.  It  was 
now  or  never  with  the  captured  frontiersman. 

Again  seizing  upon  the  rope,  Slover  gave  it  a  few 
strong  jerks,  and,  biting  it  with  his  jaws  for  a  second 
time,  suddenly  parted  it.  With  his  heart  bumping 
against  his  side  like  a  trip-hammer,  he  stole  noise 
lessly  from  the  lodge.  Not  an  Indian  was  stirring, 


INDIANS    TORTURING    A    PRISONER. 


JOHN    SLOVER  99 

and,  darting  toward  a  corn  field,  he  narrowly  missed 
stepping  upon  a  squaw  with  her  two  children,  who 
were  asleep  beneath  a  tree.  He  crept  through  the 
growing  stalks,  and  upon  the  other  side  saw  quite  a 
number  of  ponies.  Taking  the  rope  from  his  arm,  he 
made  a  slip-noose  of  it;  selected  a  fine,  young  horse; 
threw  it  over  his  head;  mounted,  and  rode  away  like 
mad.  His  life  depended  upon  his  exertions. 

As  he  dashed  off,  he  heard  a  door  open  in  an  Indian 
lodge  and  knew  that  the  red  men  were  astir.  They 
would  soon  discover  his  absence.  He  would  be  fol 
lowed  by  all  of  the  swiftest  and  hardest-riding  men 
of  the  encampment.  No  wonder  that  he  dug  his 
heels  into  the  flanks  of  his  pony  and  urged  him  to  do 
his  very  best. 

At  ten  o'clock  he  reached  the  Scioto  River,  —  now 
much  swollen  by  the  recent  thunder  shower.  But  his 
horse  was  winded  and  he  had  to  stop  in  order  to  give 
him  both  water  and  breath,  for  he  was  blowing  from 
his  exertions.  He  plunged  into  the  stream,  crossed  it, 
and  continued  his  flight  at  the  fastest  pace  which  his 
horse  was  able  to  make.  Finally  the  faithful  animal 
began  to  pant  and  stagger.  He  was  done  for. 

As  the  Indian  pony  fell  upon  his  side,  Slover  leaped 
to  the  ground  and  heard  a  wild  yelping  behind  him 
in  the  forest.  He  thus  knew  that  the  Indians  were 
hot  upon  his  trail.  The  horse  had  carried  him  sev 
enty  miles  at  a  fast  pace,  which  is  extraordinary.  But 
the  animal  was  now  lying  prostrate,  with  the  glaze 
of  death  showing  in  his  eye.  He  had  run  a  good  race. 

The   scout  bounded   forward,   loping  through  the 


100        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

underbrush,  timber,  and  tall  grass,  and  leaving  as 
little  trail  as  he  could.  But  his  exertions  were  wear 
ing  heavily  upon  him,  and,  about  ten  o'clock  that 
night,  he  fell  exhausted  to  the  ground.  He  lay  in  a 
stupor  for  two  hours. 

When  he  was.  again  able  to  move,  a  full  moon  cast 
its  silvery  light  over  the  dense  woodland,  where  he 
had  fallen,  and  no  sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
night  save  the  weird  call  of  a  whippoorwill.  The  red 
skins  could  easily  have  captured  him  had  they  been 
close  upon  his  track,  but  his  care  in  leaving  little  trace 
of  his  flight  had  thrown  them  from  the  pursuit. 
Breathing  more  easily,  he  again  continued  his  race  for 
life,  and,  as  day  came,  abandoned  his  trail  for  a  low, 
rough  ridge,  where  was  little  grass  or  soft  earth.  On, 
on,  he  continued,  occasionally  stopping  to  listen  at  the 
sounds  of  the  forest,  but,  except  for  the  occasional 
call  of  a  bird,  no  voice  came  to  his  expectant  hearing. 
The  red  men  had  lost  heart  and  had  returned  to  their 
wigwams. 

As  evening  came,  the  frontiersman  reached  the 
banks  of  one  of  the  creeks  which  empty  into  the 
Muskingum,  and  again  sank  exhausted  to  the  earth. 
The  mosquitoes  swarmed  upon  him,  biting  him  un 
mercifully,  and  as  his  hunting  suit  (which  the  red 
men  had  allowed  him  to  put  on  when  tied)  was  torn 
to  tatters  by  the  nettles  and  briars,  they  had  a  splen 
did  opportunity  to  get  at  his  bare  flesh.  Some  wild 
berries  furnished  him  with  much-needed  food,  —  the 
first  he  had  eaten  since  his  escape,  —  and,  if  we  are 
to  believe  his  word  for  it,  he  says  that  he  was  so  terri- 


JOHN   SLOVER  101 

fied  with  fear,  that  he  had  forgotten  to  feel  hungry 
during  his  flight.  "  I  was  fairly  peeled  from  head  to 
foot  by  briars  and  mosquitoes,"  he  has  written.  "  And 
I  was  now  so  hungry  that  I  fell  upon  two  crawfish 
which  I  found  behind  a  rock  in  the  Muskingum,  and 
ate  them  raw." 

The  scout  was  now  refreshed,  and  plunging  into  the 
Muskingum,  swam  to  the  other  shore.  Two  days 
later  he  reached  the  Ohio  River,  opposite  Wheeling, 
West  Virginia,  and  seeing  a  man  in  a  skiff  who  was 
apparently  fishing,  called  out  to  him  in  a  loud  voice: 

"Hallo!  Hallo!  Comrade!  I'm  a  fugitive  from 
the  Indians  and  was  one  of  Crawford's  men.  Come! 
Take  me  over  to  the  settlement !  " 

The  fellow  did  not  seem  anxious  to  hasten  to  his 
relief,  for  he  was  afraid  that  Slover  was  one  of  the 
white  renegades  who  had  joined  the  redskins  and  was 
anxious  to  trap  him.  After  a  long  harangue  he  finally 
rowed  to  the  place  where  the  tattered  scout  was 
standing.  The  refugee  fairly  hugged  him  for  joy, 
and,  in  a  Tew  minutes,  was  again  safe  in  the  settle 
ment,  where  he  was  greeted  with  warm  and  affection 
ate  regard  by  the  other  men  of  the  frontier,  who  had 
received  many  stragglers  from  the  ill-fated  expedition 
under  Colonel  Crawford. 

The  escape  of  John  Slover  was  one  of  the  narrowest 
of  which  there  is  any  record  in  the  annals  of  war 
upon  the  frontier.  No  wonder  that  for  many  years 
the  story  of  this  famous  affair  was  the  favorite  topic 
of  conversation,  when  the  after-dinner  pipes  were 
lighted,  and  the  men  of  the  forest  would  sit  before  the 


102        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

glowing  embers,  there  to  tell  tales  concerning  the 
heroism  and  courage  of  the  gallant  settlers  of  the  wild 
and  undeveloped  West.  Truly  the  adventures  which 
befell  John  Slover  were  the  most  thrilling  of  them  all. 


LEWIS    WETZEL: 

HEROIC    VIRGINIA    FRONTIERSMAN    AND 

IMPLACABLE   ENEMY   OF  THE 

REDSKINS 

BOYS,  watch  your  mother  and  grandfather  for 
a  few  hours,  because  I  am  going  out  fishing. 
There  is  no  danger  of  attack  from  redskins, 
for  none  have  been  seen  for  six  months.  If,  however, 
any  one  comes  to  our  cabin  with  news  of  prowling 
bands,  shoot  off  your  rifles  three  times.  This  will 
warn  me  of  any  danger  to  you,  and  I  will  hasten 
home." 

So  spoke  John  Wetzel,  whose  cabin  was  upon  the 
far  western  Virginian  frontier,  and,  turning  from  his 
two  little  boys,  he  plunged  into  the  wilderness.  This 
was  the  last  that  he  ever  saw  of  his  wife  and  her  aged 
father.  He  had  not  been  three  days  in  the  forest 
before  his  cabin  was  attacked. 

Stealing  carefully  through  the  brush,  a  marauding 
band  of  savages  suddenly  made  a  sortie  upon  the  iso 
lated  house  of  logs.  There  was  not  time  to  warn  the 
inmates  of  the  stealthy  approach  before  the  tomahawk 
and  scalping-knife  were  at  work.  In  an  hour's  time 
all  of  the  inmates  had  been  dispatched,  except  Lewis 
Wetzel  and  his  little  brother,  Martin,  both  of  whom 

103 


104        FAMOUS  FRONTIEESMEN 

were  carried  off  into  captivity.  Lewis  was  about  thir 
teen  years  of  age  and  Martin  was  eleven. 

"  We  will  soon  escape,"  whispered  the  older  youth. 
"  Wait  until  evening  arrives  and  then  I  will  show  you 
how  to  creep  away  from  these  horrible  savages." 

Lewis  had  been  severely  wounded  by  an  arrow,  but 
he  stoically  bore  the  pain,  and  trudged  behind  his  cap 
tors  with  no  show  of  ill  humor.  The  Indian  prisoner 
who  lagged,  or  who  made  a  cry  of  distress,  would  be 
speedily  dispatched  by  the  savages,  and  this  he  knew. 
The  other  boy  went  bravely  ahead  and  said  nothing. 

Through  the  wilderness  walked  the  red  men,  and 
on  the  night  of  the  second  day  they  camped  twenty 
miles  beyond  the  Ohio  River. 

"  Ugh !  "  spoke  a  brave.  "  These  children  cannot 
escape  us  now.  We  will  not  bind  them  with  thongs 
this  evening,  but  will  allow  them  to  go  free." 

The  savages  had  underestimated  the  daring  courage 
which  was  in  the  heart  of  Lewis  Wetzel.  No  sooner 
were  the  red  men  fast  asleep,  when,  touching  his 
brother  with  his  hand,  Lewis  warned  him  to  keep  ab 
solutely  silent  and  to  follow  him  away  into  the  dark 
ness.  They  were  barefoot. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  escape  without  mocca 
sins,"  said  Lewis,  after  they  had  gone  some  distance. 
"  This  ground  is  full  of  stones,  and  our  feet  will  be 
ruined.  You  wait  here  for  me  and  I  will  return  to 
the  camp  and  get  a  pair  for  each  of  us,  and  then  we 
can  easily  travel  through  the  wilderness." 

The  brave  boy  not  only  secured  the  moccasins  but 
also  returned  with  a  gun  and  some  ammunition.  Then 


LEWIS   WETZEL  105 

on  they  plunged  through  the  forest.  Just  as  the  first 
streaks  of  dawn  began  to  light  up  the  gloomy  depths, 
behind  them  echoed  the  shouts  of  their  enemies,  the 
red  men. 

"  Walk  backward  upon  your  trail,  brother,"  said 
Lewis  Wetzel.  "  Then  turn  to  the  right  and  secrete 
yourself  in  the  dense  undergrowth.  These  red  men 
will  soon  catch  up  to  us  and  we  must  be  thoroughly 
hidden." 

This  advice  was  followed,  and  it  was  well,  for  the 
boys  had  lain  in  the  covert  but  a  few  minutes  when 
their  captors  came  bounding  past.  They  were  yelling 
to  each  other  and  were  furious  with  anger  at  having 
lost  their  prisoners.  The  two  Wetzels  waited  until 
they  were  out  of  sight.  When  the  yelping  had  ceased 
they  crept  from  their  hiding-place  and  ran  away  to 
the  right.  In  a  few  hours  they  heard  the  Indians 
again  returning,  and,  secreting  themselves  in  some  un 
derbrush,  saw  some  savages  dash  by  on  ponies.  They 
were  not  the  same  red  men  whom  they  had  first  seen, 
but  these,  also,  could  not  find  them.  When  the  red 
skins  were  well  beyond  hearing,  the  terrified  children 
ran  to  the  river,  fastened  two  logs  together,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  crossing  it.  Not  long  afterwards  they 
reached  the  house  of  a  frontiersman  and  knew  that 
they  were  safe.  When  they  told  him  their  story,  he 
showed  great  surprise. 

"  Bully  for  you,  boys !  "  cried  the  man  of  the  clear 
ing.  "  You,  Lewis,  showed  particular  courage  and 
daring.  You  are  a  credit  to  your  poor  father,  who 
is,  I  hear,  terribly  overcome  by  this  butchery  of  the 


106        FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

redskins.  I  trust  that  you  will  both  live  long  and 
useful  lives  upon  the  border." 

"  Thank  you !  "  cried  the  boys.  "  We  will  do  our 
best,  anyway,  to  avenge  the  terrible  injury  which  the 
red  men  have  inflicted  upon  our  family." 

Thus  early  was  implanted  in  the  breasts  of  the  two 
Wetzels  an  implacable  hatred  for  the  savages. 

It  is  said  that  Lewis  was  the  strongest  and  most 
active  of  all  of  the  youths  upon  the  western  border 
land  of  Virginia,  and  by  long  practice  had  gained  the 
ability  to  load  his  rifle  while  running  at  full  speed. 
This  was  an  immense  advantage  to  him  in  his  numer 
ous  affrays  with  the  red  men. 

Not  long  after  the  terrible  defeat  of  Colonel  Craw 
ford,  in  which  John  Slover  was  a  participant,  a  pio 
neer  named  Thomas  Mills  arrived  at  Wheeling,  West 
Virginia,  where  Lewis  Wetzel  was  temporarily  re 
siding. 

"  I  have  left  my  good  horse  at  Indian  Spring,  some 
five  miles  away,"  said  he.  "  The  country  was  so 
rough  that  I  could  not  ride  him  here,  for  some  red 
skins  were  upon  my  trail.  Wetzel,  I  wish  that  you 
would  accompany  me  to  where  he  is,  for  I  want  to 
be  able  to  hold  my  own  with  the  savages,  should  we 
meet  any  of  them." 

"  Mills,  I'm  your  man,"  said  Wetzel.  So,  upon  the 
day  following,  they  were  on  their  way  towards  the 
spring. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  place  where  Mills  had  left 
his  horse,  they  found  the  animal  tied  to  a  bush. 

"  That  looks  mighty  suspicious,"  whispered  Wet- 


LEWIS   WETZEL  107 

zel  to  his  companion,  "  because  I  understand  that  you 
left  him  untied.  Do  not  go  near  the  animal  until  I 
circle  around  him  and  see  if  any  savages  are  in  our 
front." 

The  pioneer,  however,  neglected  to  heed  this  sage 
counsel  and  proceeded  to  untie  the  pony.  As  he 
reached  down  towards  the  bridle-rein,  the  head  of  an 
Indian  appeared  from  behind  a  rock. 

"  Mills !  Mills !  Take  to  a  tree !  "  yelled  the  scout. 
"  There's  a  redskin  drawin'  er  bead  on  yer !  " 

The  warning  was  unheeded.  The  frontiersman  con 
tinued  to  work  on  the  bridle-reins ;  then  a  sharp  crack 
was  heard,  and  the  red  man  fell  back,  shot  through 
the  forehead  by  Wetzel.  At  the  same  moment  a  series 
of  quick  reports  came  from  the  brush,  and  Mills  sank 
to  the  ground,  pierced  by  a  half  dozen  bullets. 

Wetzel  started  away  on  the  run,  for  a  number  of 
top-knots  rose  from  the  bushes.  Their  owners  ha 
stened  after  him,  but  were  uncautious  enough  to  drop 
their  own  guns  so  that  they  could  run  all  the  faster. 
Knowing  that  he  had  discharged  his  piece,  they  ex 
pected  to  soon  overtake  him,  tie  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  and  remove  him  to  their  own  camp,  to  run  the 
gauntlet  and  be  tortured.  They  had  counted  without 
their  host. 

The  lithe  and  sinewy  trapper  raced  onward,  exert 
ing  his  utmost  speed,  and,  finding  that  he  could  not 
get  away  from  his  pursuers,  turned  about  and  fired 
upon  the  nearest  red  man.  The  art  of  loading  upon 
the  run,  which  he  had  learned,  was  of  tremendous 
assistance  to  him,  for  he  was  thus  able  to  place  a  bullet 


108        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

in  his  adversary's  chest,  which  stretched  him  upon 
the  ground.  Again  he  started  forward,  loading  as  he 
ran,  and,  turning  a  second  time,  was  about  to  fire, 
when  his  nearest  pursuer  seized  the  muzzle,  of  his  rifle. 

"  Hah !  Paleface !  I  have  you !  "  cried  the  red  man, 
for  he  had  often  been  to  the  settlements  and  had 
learned  how  to  speak  excellent  English. 

"  Not  yet,"  answered  the  trapper,  and  he  grappled 
with  his  antagonist.  They  were  very  evenly  matched. 
By  the  greatest  exertion,  the  white  man  succeeded  in 
wresting  the  redskin's  hold  from  his  rifle,  and  in 
shooting  him  dead.  It  was  a  short  struggle,  but  dur 
ing  it  two  Indians  gained  upon  the  man  of  the  fron 
tier,  so  that  they  were  very  close  indeed.  He  now 
turned  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  was  able  —  loading  as  he 
went. 

The  Indians  were  whooping  wildly,  but  they  had 
knowledge  of  his  skill  in  loading. on  the  run.  When 
he  turned  again  in  order  to  fire,  they  took  hasty  de 
parture  to  the  shelter  of  some  large  trees.  He  kept 
on  going  —  the  red  men  still  after  him.  But  he  was 
a  crafty  fellow,  as  the  following  will  show : 

Having  reached  a  clearing  in  the  forest,  he  pur 
posely  stumbled  and  fell,  as  if  exhausted  by  his  race 
for  life.  The  redskins  thought  that  they  now  had 
him.  They  bounded  forward  with  exultant  shouts, 
but  as  they  came  nearer,  the  bold  trapper  rolled  upon 
his  side,  raised  his  rifle,  and  brought  one  of  them  to 
the  earth  before  he  could  get  behind  a  tree.  The 
second  Indian  turned  and  fled  as  fast  as  he  was  able, 
howling  out  in  loud  tones : 


LEWIS   WETZEL  109 

"  No  catch  dat  feller.  No  catch  him  at  all.  He 
gun  always  loaded.  He  devil  with  the  shooting  stick." 

At  this  the  crafty  trapper  rose  to  his  feet  with  a 
loud  guffaw. 

"  These  redskins  have  yet  to  learn  a  trick  or  two," 
said  he,  chuckling.  "  They  should  remember  that 
some  trappers  can  load  their  rifles  when  on  the  run. 
My  fine  fellows  —  Au  revoir !  " 

So  saying,  he  started  upon  his  way  to  the  settle 
ments,  lighting  a  corn-cob  pipe  on  the  way,  and  still 
chuckling  softly  to  himself. 

Not  long  after  this  affair,  the  father  of  the  two 
Wetzel  boys  was  returning  from  a  hunting  excursion 
into  the  Ohio  wilderness.  With  him  were  his  sons 
Martin  and  Lewis.  The  latter  had  just  shot  a  brown 
bear,  and  carried  the  skin  with  him  in  the  bottom  of 
the  canoe.  As  they  were  gliding  down  the  river,  a 
band  of  Shawnees  suddenly  appeared  upon  the  bank. 

"  Come  ashore,  palefaces !  "  said  one.  "  It  is  not 
good  for  you  to  go  down  the  river !  " 

"  Paddle  to  the  other  side  of  the  stream,"  whis 
pered  the  older  Wetzel.  "  Hasten,  boys,  or  their  bul 
lets  will  reach  us." 

Quickly  they  turned  towards  the  opposite  bank,  but 
a  volley  of  lead  pursued  them.  They  kept  on  dog 
gedly.  A  missile  struck  the  old  pioneer,  inflicting  a 
mortal  wound. 

"  Lie  down,  Martin !  "  cried  he.  "  They  will  get 
you  also,  if  you  do  not  do  so." 

Then  the  heroic  old  man  paddled  forward,  his  life- 
blood  ebbing  at  every  stroke.  Volley  after  volley 


110        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

zipped  around  the  frail  barque.  Again  and  again  the 
frontiersman  was  struck,  so  that  when  well  beyond 
range  of  the  Indian  rifles  he  fell  fainting  to  the 
bottom  of  the  canoe.  That  evening  he  expired. 

Standing  over  the  body  of  their  parent,  both  Wet- 
zels  took  a  solemn  oath  to  avenge  his  untimely  end. 

"  From  now  on/'  said  Lewis,  "  I  will  use  every 
endeavor  to  slaughter  the  red  men.  They  have  killed 
my  dear  father.  Death  shall  be  upon  their  own  heads. 
Death  and  no  quarter." 

Not  a  week  had  elapsed  after  the  sudden  end  of 
this  staunch  man  of  the  frontier,  when  news  was 
brought  into  Wheeling  that  the  Indians  were  again 
upon  the  war-path.  A  scout  came  running  into  the 
settlement,  crying: 

"  The  Shawnees  and  Wyandots  are  approaching. 
They  have  slaughtered  one  man,  and  are  burning, 
killing  and  scalping.  Every  able-bodied  settler  is 
needed  to  drive  them  away." 

Immediately  all  turned  out  with  rifle  and  powder- 
horn  in  order  to  repel  the  invaders.  But  before  they 
started,  a  purse  of  one  hundred  dollars  was  made  up, 
to  go  to  the  first  individual  who  should  take  an  Indian 
scalp.  The  trail  of  the  marauders  was  soon  struck; 
was  followed  for  several  miles;  and  was  found  to  be 
very  fresh.  Then  the  advance  scouts  returned  with 
the  information  that  a  large  body  of  the  enemy  was 
encamped  a  few  miles  ahead. 

"  They  are  too  many  to  be  attacked,"  said  the  sol 
diers  of  the  advance.  "  We  must  go  back  to  Wheel 
ing,  or  they  will  surround  and  annihilate  us." 


LEWIS   WETZEL  111 

They  set  off  upon  the  return,  but  they  noticed,  as 
they  did  so,  that  Lewis  Wetzel  did  not  move. 

"Are  you  not  going  to  accompany  us?"  asked 
some  of  the  trappers. 

The  frontiersman  scowled. 

"  I  set  out  to  hunt  Indians  and  thought  that  this 
had  also  been  your  purpose,"  said  he.  "  My  object 
in  hunting  Indians  is  to  kill  them,  and  now  that  we 
have  treed  our  game  I  do  not  intend  to  run  off  with 
out  a  shot.  As  for  you,  I  consider  you  to  be  a  band 
of  cowards." 

"  It  is  too  bad  about  you,"  said  they.  "  As  for 
ourselves,  we  intend  to  return  home." 

Wetzel  gazed  after  them  with  an  amused  smile, 
then  stooped  and  examined  his  arms,  for  he  was  a 
man  of  caution. 

"  I  will  get  a  scalp  of  my  own,"  said  he.  "  Perhaps 
more.  These  fellows  will  see  that  I  mean  what  I 
say." 

There  were  plenty  of  Indian  signs,  but  he  could 
find  no  large  bands  of  the  red  men;  instead,  he 
stumbled  upon  a  camp  with  only  two  braves  in 
it. 

"  There  must  be  more  in  the  encampment,"  thought 
he.  "  I  will  creep  away ;  will  come  back  this  eve 
ning;  and  will  then  have  an  opportunity  to  get  what 
I  am  after." 

Turning  again  into  the  forest,  he  was  soon  out  of 
hearing,  and,  by  great  good  fortune,  came  across  a 
red  deer,  which  he  killed.  He  had  a  fine  feast.  As 
night  fell  he  hastened  towards  the  Indian  camp,  crept 


112        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

close  to  it,  and  found  only  one  red  man,  instead  of 
a  dozen  or  more,  as  he  had  expected.  He  waited  until 
the  redskin  was  fast  asleep  and  then  made  good  his 
boa,st.  As  he  started  upon  the  back  trail  for  the  settle 
ment,  a  fresh  scalp  hung  at  his  girdle. 

Owing  to  his  great  strength  and  agility,  he  reached 
Wheeling  just  one  day  behind  his  companions,  instead 
of  three.  They  were  delighted  to  see  him. 

"  My  boy/'  cried  they,  "  you  have  certainly  made 
good  and  are  entitled  to  the  greatest  possible  credit. 
Bully  for  you !  " 

The  trapper  in  fact  was  more  than  a  match  for 
many  redskins,  as  the  following  will  show : 

Not  long  after  his  return  to  Wheeling  he  went  out 
into  the  forest  in  order  to  get  some  venison  to  dry 
and  salt  for  winter  use.  He  saw  no  game,  but  sud 
denly  stumbled  upon  a  camp  of  four  Shawnees,  who 
were  busily  engaged  in  tanning  some  deer  hides.  They 
did  not  see  or  hear  him,  so  he  determined  to  return 
at  nightfall  and  single-handed  to  attack  the  party  of 
braves.  This  he  did. 

First,  resting  his  rifle  against  a  tree  so  that  it  would 
be  close  at  hand  for  any  emergency,  he  drew  his  toma 
hawk,  uttered  a  wild  yell,  and  dashed  in  among  the 
savages,  cutting  down  one  of  them  in  a  moment.  Two 
more  fell  beneath  his  unerring  weapon.  The  fourth 
darted  off  into  the  woodland  with  Wetzel  close  upon 
his  heels.  He  was  a  good  runner  and  got  safely  away, 
while  the  man  of  the  frontier  returned  for  the  scalp- 
locks  of  the  three.  He  was  back  at  Wheeling  before 
two  days  were  over, 


LEWIS   WETZEL  113 

"  What  luck  did  you  have,  Lewis?  "  asked  a  com 
panion. 

"  Not  much,"  answered  the  man-of-the-woods.  "  I 
treed  four  of  th'  pesky  varmints.  But  one  slick-ez- 
lightnin*  feller  got  away.  He  had  er  close  call." 

At  Marietta,  Ohio,  was  a  frontier  fortification 
where  a  number  of  troops  were  stationed  to  protect 
the  settlements  from  Shawnee  invasion.  Here  Gen 
eral  Harmer  summoned  several  tribes  to  meet  him  in 
conference,  and  here  Lewis  Wetzel  and  a  scout  called 
Dickerson  ambushed  themselves  near  the  Indian  en 
campment  with  the  intention  of  killing  the  first  war 
rior  who  might  pass.  Wetzel,  you  see,  was  a  vindic 
tive  fellow  and  did  not  even  fight  in  the  open. 

The  two  assassins  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  a  red 
skin  soon  came  by  on  the  gallop  without  show  or 
sign  of  fear,  because  a  flag  of  truce  had  been  delivered 
to  the  whites  but  a  short  time  before.  As  he  passed, 
both  men  fired,  and,  although  the  warrior  reeled  in 
his  saddle,  he  clung  to  the  mane  of  his  horse  with  a 
tenacious  grip  and  rode  on  into  the  fort.  Here  he 
dropped  exhausted  to  the  ground,  and,  before  dying, 
cried  out : 

"  My  white  brothers,  I  demand  vengeance  upon 
these  hidden  men  who  have  driven  me  to  the  Great 
Spirit.  You  who  have  true  hearts,  see  that  I  get 
what  I  desire,  and  my  soul  will  then  rest  in  peace." 

When  news  of  this  was  brought  to  General  Harmer, 
he  said,  with  much  heat: 

"  Justice  shall  be  done  to  this  poor  redskin.  I  hear 
from  some  of  my  men  that  Lewis  Wetzel  was  respon- 


114        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

sible  for  this  affair.  Captain  Kingsbury  will  therefore 
take  his  company  and  scour  the  woods  for  the  rascal. 
Let  him  be  brought  to  me,  dead  or  alive." 

Wetzel,  meanwhile,  had  returned  to  his  home  in  the 
Mingo  Bottom  settlement  and  was  engaged  in  a 
shooting  match  for  a  turkey.  When  the  soldiers  ar 
rived,  and  the  frontiersmen  learned  what  they  were 
after,  they  gathered  around  their  comrade  with  the 
remark  that: 

"  Whoever  touches  Lewis  Wetzel  will  have  tew 
fight  th'  hull  gang  uv  us." 

Captain  Kingsbury  therefore  withdrew,  but  Lewis 
Wetzel  was  not  careful  to  keep  beyond  the  clutch  of 
his  arm.  Some  time  afterwards  he  paddled  down  the 
river  to  an  island  opposite  Farmer's  Fort  in  order  to 
spend  the  night  with  a  friend,  and  news  of  his  pres 
ence  was  brought  to  the  soldiers  within  the  stockade. 
A  company  of  men  was  soon  headed  for  the  island: 
the  frontiersman  was  surrounded  at  midnight;  was 
thrown  into  the  guard-house,  heavily  ironed,  and  was 
not  only  deprived  of  open  air,  but  also  of  exercise. 
He  quickly  sickened  and  grew  pale.  When  told  that 
he  would  shortly  be  hung,  he  sent  for  General  Har- 
mer,  and  said : 

"  General,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  deed,  for  ever 
since  the  day  that  my  people  were  brutally  slain  by 
the  children  of  the  forest,  I  have  considered  it  per 
fectly  justifiable  for  me  to  do  unto  them  what  they 
have  done  unto  me.  If  you  will  grant  me  one  request, 
it  is  that  you  allow  me  to  go  loose  among  the  savages 
armed  only  with  a  tomahawk.  Then  I  will  have  one 


LEWIS   WETZEL  115 

chance  in  a  thousand  to  escape,  but  I  will  take  that 
chance." 

The  General  shook  his  head. 

"  The  scaffold  is  the  proper  death  for  you,"  he  re 
plied.  "  As  an  officer  of  the  law  I  must  see  that  you 
receive  the  fit  punishment  for  your  crimes.  But,  as 
I  see  that  you  are  growing  pale  under  strict  confine 
ment,  I  hereby  order  that  the  irons  be  taken  from 
your  legs.  Your  handcuffs  must  remain." 

The  trapper  bowed  his  head,  but  as  soon  as  the 
General  had  gone  and  he  was  allowed  to  move  in  the 
open  air,  he  frisked  about  like  a  young  colt.  A  num 
ber  of  soldiers  guarded  him  closely,  but  as  he  walked 
and  jumped  around  in  front  of  them,  he  continually 
experimented  with  his  handcuffs,  in  the  endeavor  to 
wrest  his  arms  from  their  grip.  Gradually  he  edged 
farther  and  farther  from  the  guard.  Finally  he  had 
moved  to  a  position  from  which  he  felt  that  he  could 
safely  get  away.  With  one  mighty  bound  he  had 
turned  and  was  off  into  the  forest.  Volley  after 
volley  came  from  the  soldiers,  but  he  escaped  un 
touched. 

Wetzel  knew  well  the  woodland  in  which  he  found 
himself,  and  hastening  to  a  dense  thicket  pushed 
through  a  close  tangle  of  briars  to  a  fallen  tree.  He 
wedged  himself  beneath  this,  and  none  too  soon,  for 
within  a  very  few  moments  a  number  of  Indians  and 
soldiers  approached.  Twice  some  redskins  sat  upon 
the  very  tree  beneath  which  he  was  crouching,  and 
he  heard  one  say: 

"  Ah,  but  the  white  dog  would  make  good  running 


116        FAMOUS   FKONTIERSMEN 

through  the  ranks  of  our  red  brothers.  We  must  stick 
our  knives  into  him  when  we  find  him." 

At  last  darkness  came.  The  trapper  heard  his  pur 
suers  returning,  so  he  crept  stealthily  from  his  hiding- 
place  and  made  for  the  river.  He  reached  it  in  an 
hour,  and  by  the  light  of  the  half  moon,  saw  a  fron 
tiersman  fishing  from  a  canoe.  He  was  afraid  to  call 
to  him,  for  the  woods  were  full  of  Indians,  so  he  at 
tracted  his  attention  by  beating  upon  the  water  with 
a  stick.  The  fellow  saw  him;  picked  him  up,  and 
paddled  him  to  the  other  shore,  where  his  handcuffs 
were  cut  from  his  wrists.  Next  day  he  stood  among 
his  own  friends. 

Not  long  after  this  remarkable  escape  the  trapper 
was  at  a  fort  on  Wheeling  Creek  from  which  a  num 
ber  of  pioneers  had  mysteriously  disappeared. 

"  They  have  been  killed  by  the  redskins,"  said  one 
of  the  backwoodsmen,  who  resided  there.  "  How, 
where,  and  when,  no  one  seems  to  know;  but,  my 
friend,  there  have  been  mysterious  calls  of  turkeys  in 
the  woods.  Turkeys,  mark  you,  my  friend,  —  wild 
turkeys !  " 

Wetzel  pricked  up  his  ears.  He  remembered  that 
each  of  the  men  who  had  been  killed  had  heard  turkey 
calls  near  the  fort:  had  gone  out  to  shoot  one  for 
supper:  and  had  never  returned.  The  turkey  calls 
had  all  come  from  one  direction  and  here  was  a  high 
hill  covered  with  boulders.  A  small  cave-like  depres 
sion  could  be  seen  from  the  camp.  Putting  two  and 
two  together,  he  decided  that  Mr.  Redskin  had  pro 
duced  the  call  of  Mr.  Turkey  and  that  it  was  Mr. 


LEWIS   WETZEL  117 

Redskin's  unerring  aim  that  had  put  an  end  to  the 
lives  of  so  many  good  frontiersmen.  "  I  shall  soon 
stop  the  twaddle  of  the  fascinating  tongue  of  Mr. 
Gobbler,"  said  the  scout  to  himself. 

Setting  out  one  morning,  before  day  had  broken, 
he  soon  drew  near  a  hill,  on  the  top  of  which  was  a 
small  cave.  It  was  an  excellent  spot  in  which  to  hide 
one's  self,  and,  placing  himself  in  ambush,  he  watched 
it  narrowly.  At  sunrise  he  saw  the  tufted  head  of  a 
Shawnee  appear  in  the  narrow  opening,  and  the 
"  gobble,  gobble,  gobble  "  of  a  turkey,  sounded  from 
the  throat  of  the  savage.  The  trapper  bent  low  and 
watched  the  performance,  for  it  was  an  exact  imita 
tion  of  the  male  bird.  "  Gobble,  gobble,  gobble," 
echoed  again  from  the  gloom  of  the  cave,  and, 
"  crack  "  sounded  the  rifle  of  the  bold  pioneer.  A 
wail  of  anguish  arose  from  the  cavern's  mouth.  Then 
all  was  still.  The  Shawnee  gobbler  had  gone  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds. 

Well  pleased  with  himself,  Wetzel  started  back  to 
the  fort  with  the  scalp-lock  of  the  enterprising  brave, 
and,  as  he  neared  the  stockade,  met  a  soldier  hasten 
ing  towards  him. 

"  Did  you  hear  that  turkey  call  ?  "  said  the  enthu 
siastic  sportsman.  "  I'm  going  out  to  get  him,  sure." 

The  scout  pointed  to  his  girdle. 

"  There  is  Mr.  Gobbler,"  said  he.  "  He  was  the 
kind  of  a  bird  that  shoots  a  rifle.  My  boy,  you  should 
thank  your  lucky  stars  that  I  saw  him  first." 

Not  long  after  this  event  the  frontiersman  made  a 
journey  to  the  Kanawha  River  with  John  Madison, 


118        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

brother  of  James  Madison,  at  one  time  President  of 
the  United  States.  They  were  busy  surveying  some 
land,  and  one  day  came  to  a  hunter's  cabin,  which 
appeared  to  be  deserted. 

"  No  one  is  here,"  said  Madison.  "  Let  us  take 
some  of  this  jerked  venison  and  also  a  pailful  of  this 
coffee.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  camp  will  be  again 
visited,  and  we  may  as  well  have  the  food,  as  to  let  the 
wood-mice  eat  it." 

"  All  right,"  answered  the  trapper,  and,  without 
more  ado,  they  appropriated  what  they  wished,  and 
continued  upon  their  journey. 

Early  the  next  day,  as  they  were  crossing  a  small 
valley,  many  shots  rang  out,  and  wild  war-whoops 
sounded  from  every  side.  Cries  of  "  You  give  back 
our  venison !  "  were  heard  above  the  din,  and  Madison 
reeled  in  his  saddle,  falling  headlong  to  the  ground. 
Wetzel  did  not  wait  to  see  what  had  happened  to  him, 
but,  digging  his  heels  into  his  horse's  flanks,  dashed 
off  into  the  brush. 

Now  was  a  furious  chase.  Although  well  mounted, 
the  scout  soon  saw  that  the  red  men  also  had  good 
ponies,  and  he  feared  that  they  would  catch  him. 
Over  the  mountain  paths  they  flew,  for  hour  after 
hour.  At  last  they  neared  a  broad  river,  and  leaping 
his  horse  into  it,  the  scout  swam  to  the  other  side. 
The  red  men  had  not  the  courage  to  follow  where  he 
had  led,  and  thus  he  made  good  his  escape. 

The  pioneer  had  a  generous  heart  in  spite  of  his 
vindictiveness  to  all  savages,  and  not  long  afterwards 
had  an  opportunity  to  display  his  good  feeling  towards 


LEWIS   WETZEL  119 

the  weak  and  distressed.  Going  with  a  friend  one 
day  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  frontier  house  belonging  to  the 
Bryans,  they  found  indications  that  the  Indians  had 
just  been  there,  for  the  home  was  burned  to  the 
ground.  Tracks  in  the  moist  earth  led  into  the  forest, 
and  besides  those  of  the  redskins  were  the  print  of  a 
woman's  feet. 

"  Miss  Betsy  Bryan  has  been  carried  off,  I  fear," 
said  Wetzel  sorrowfully,  pointing  to  the  footprints. 
"  We  must  rescue  her  even  if  it  costs  us  our  lives. 
Comrade,  let  us  hasten  to  the  chase." 

His  companion  nodded,  and,  without  more  ado,  the 
two  men  of  the  frontier  followed  the  well-marked  trail 
of  the  savages.  Towards  evening  they  crossed  the 
Ohio  River.  Not  far  from  the  bank  was  a  camp-fire, 
and,  going  towards  it  with  great  caution,  they  saw 
the  girl  seated  near  the  flames.  A  white  renegade 
and  three  Indians  were  her  companions. 

"  Lie  down,  comrade,"  whispered  Wetzel  to  his 
friend.  "  I  will  tell  you  when  to  rouse  yourself,  for 
we  cannot  attack  until  these  redskins  are  asleep." 

His  companion  obeyed,  and  waking  him  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  early  morning,  the  scout  told  him  to 
fire  at  one  of  the  red  men  and  then  to  rush  into  the 
camp  in  order  to  protect  the  captive.  "  I,  myself,  will 
attend  to  the  renegade,"  said  he. 

Both  frontiersmen  fired  at  about  the  same  time. 
The  renegade  was  done  for,  as  was  one  Indian,  also. 
The  two  remaining  savages  took  to  their  heels.  Wet 
zel  was  after  them  in  a  jiffy,  but,  as  they  soon  hid  in 
the  brush,  he  fired  his  rifle  off,  thinking  that  they 


120        FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

might  pursue  him  if  they  believed  that  his  weapon 
were  empty.  He  was  not  mistaken.  The  savages 
rushed  from  their  hiding-places,  gave  close  chase,  and 
gained  rapidly  upon  the  running  plainsman.  They 
began  to  yelp  wildly,  as  they  thought  that  they  had 
him  cornered,  but  they  did  not  know  that  this  was  the 
famous  trapper  who  could  load  while  on  the  run. 

Turning  about,  Wetzel  now  shot  the  nearest  red 
man,  but  the  other  kept  on  after  him  like  a  flash.  The 
scout  loaded  while  darting  forward,  as  usual,  then 
wheeling  quickly,  he  dispatched  this  second  assailant. 
His  wonderful  ability  to  load  when  at  full  speed  had 
made  it  thus  possible  for  him  to  thoroughly  avenge 
the  assault  upon  the  frontier  settlement  and  the  cap 
ture  of  the  inoffensive  girl.  Taking  the  scalp-locks 
of  the  two  fallen  braves  and  tying  them  to  his  girdle, 
he  was  soon  back  at  the  camp,  where  he  was  tearfully 
greeted  by  the  rescued  maiden.  In  a  short  time  they 
were  at  home  in  the  settlement. 

Wetzel  continued  his  life  of  hardship  and  adventure 
after  this;  made  a  journey  south,  where  he  was  im 
prisoned  at  New  Orleans,  and,  in  1803,  joined  Lewis 
and  Clark  in  their  expedition  up  the  Missouri  River. 
He  left  them  after  two  months,  and  spent  about  two 
years  near  the  headwaters  of  the  Yellowstone,  engaged 
in  trapping  and  in  hunting.  From  now  on,  until  his 
death  in  1818,  he  was  a  trapper  and  fur  trader;  his 
hatred  for  the  redskins  remaining  unabated  until  his 
demise.  He  was  camping  near  Natchez,  Mississippi, 
when  this  occurred. 

A  braver  man  never  lived  than  this  famous  scout, 


LEWIS   WETZEL  121 

who  could  load  while  on  the  run,  and  who  had  prob 
ably  experienced  more  hairbreadth  escapes  than  most 
of  the  pioneers.  His  one  great  failing  was  his  dislike 
for  the  red  men  and  desire  to  put  them  out  of  the 
way,  but,  after  one  considers  the  distressing  circum 
stances  attending  the  death  of  the  members  of  his 
family,  when  he  was  a  mere  youth,  one  can  pardon 
this  bloodthirstiness.  There  was  much  good  in  Lewis 
Wetzel;  the  valorous  frontiersman  of  the  early  days 
of  the  settlement  of  the  United  States. 


SAMUEL    COLTER: 
AND  HIS  WONDERFUL  RACE  FOR  LIFE 

WHEN  Lewis  and  Clark  were  on  their  way 
to  the  Pacific  coast  they  had  with  them  two 
trappers,  one  of  whom  was  to  meet  with 
extraordinary  adventures.  These  were  Samuel  Colter 
and  Lemuel  Potts  —  both  sturdy  sons  of  the  West  — 
who  obtained  permission  from  the  leaders  of  the  ex 
pedition  to  remain  near  the  headwaters  of  the  Mis 
souri  River,  in  order  to  hunt  and  to  trap.  They  in 
tended  to  overtake  the  main  body,  after  a  short  time, 
and  hoped  to  obtain  enough  beaver  skins  to  net  them 
a  good  sum  of  money  upon  their  return  to  civilization. 
You  probably  remember  that  Lewis  had  trouble  with 
the  Blackfeet,  when  near  the  Missouri,  one  of  whom 
he  had  to  kill  because  he  began  to  run  off  the  horses. 
For  this  reason  these  two  trappers  knew  that  they 
would  have  to  use  extreme  caution  or  else  they  would 
fall  into  the  clutches  of  some  of  these  savages.  The 
vengeance  of  an  Indian  is  always  swift  and  sure. 

Knowing  that  the  redskins  were  all  about  them,  the 
trappers  decided  upon  the  following  plan :  they  would 
lie  hidden  during  the  day,  would  set  their  traps  late 
in  the  evening,  and  would  visit  them  in  order  to  re 
move  the  game  in  the  gray  of  the  early  morning. 
Success  met  their  efforts,  and,  before  long,  they  had 

122 


SAMUEL    COLTER  123 

a  goodly  quantity  of  skins.  No  Indians  were  seen, 
although  Indian  sign  was  abundant,  and  they  knew 
that  there  were  plenty  of  Blackfeet  in  the  vicinity. 

One  morning,  while  paddling  up  a  winding  stream 
where  numerous  traps  were  set,  to  their  keen  ears 
came  the  sound  of  heavy  tramping. 

"Those  are  redskins,"  whispered  Colter.  "Let's 
decamp  at  once,  and  get  back  to  our  starting-place." 

But  Potts  thought  differently. 

"Those  are  buffalo,"  said  he.  "Wait  until  we 
round  the  corner  and  you  will  find  out  that  I  am 
right." 

Just  then  they  swirled  around  the  bend  in  the 
stream,  and  to  their  dismay,  found  both  banks  fairly 
swarming  with  Blackfeet.  Escape  was  impossible, 
and, 'although  cold  shivers  began  to  run  up  and  down 
his  spine,  Colter  ran  the  bow  of  the  canoe  towards 
the  bank. 

The  red  men  began  to  whoop  loudly,  as  they  saw 
them  approach,  and  called  to  them  to  come  ashore. 
This  they  did,  and,  as  they  stepped  upon  the  bank,  a 
burly  savage  jumped  forward  and  snatched  the  rifle 
which  Potts  carried,  from  his  hand.  Colter  was  a 
man  of  great  physical  strength  and  courage,  who  was 
not  afraid  of  twenty  savages.  He  wrested  the  weapon 
away  from  the  redskin,  handed  it  back  to  Potts,  and 
confronted  the  startled  braves  with  a  face  filled  with 
determination  and  fire.  Potts  jumped  into  his  canoe, 
pushed  out  into  the  stream,  and  started  to  paddle 
away,  in  spite  of  the  commands  of  Colter,  who  cried 
to  him  to  come  back  and  take  him  with  him. 


124        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Suddenly  an  arrow  whizzed  from  the  bank  and 
Potts  cried  out,  "  I'm  wounded,  Colter.  I  cannot 
come  to  your  assistance." 

In  spite  of  this,  he  raised  his  rifle,  fired,  and  killed 
the  redskin  who  had  shot  him.  A  wild  yelping  now 
arose  from  the  other  savages,  and,  before  five  min 
utes  had  passed,  the  body  of  Potts  fell  into  the  water, 
riddled  with  hundreds  of  arrows. 

Colter  stood  upon  the  bank,  unarmed  and  alone. 
The  Blackfeet  swarmed  around  him ;  stripped  him  of 
his  clothes  and  then  held  a  pow-pow,  while  they  deter 
mined  what  they  should  do  with  him. 

"  Let's  skin  him  alive !  "  said  one. 

"  No,  whip  him  to  death !  "  suggested  another. 

"  Burn  him  at  the  stake !  "  shouted  a  great  many. 

The  wrangling  thus  continued,  until  it  was  decided 
to  let  him  run  a  race  for  his  life.  He  was  to  get 
away  if  he  could,  but,  if  he  could  not,  he  was  to  be 
burned  at  the  stake.  All  seemed  to  be  much  pleased 
at  this  decision. 

A  chief  now  approached  the  captive  and  said: 
"  Paleface,  you  run  fast,  eh?  " 

"  No,  no,  chief,"  answered  the  trapper,  "  I  am  very 
poor  runner,  I  slow  as  the  tortoise." 

This  was  an  untruth,  for  Colter  was  one  of  the 
swiftest  foot  racers  upon  the  border,  but  his  reply  was 
hailed  with  loud  shouts.  Led  upon  a  sandy  plain  by 
the  chief,  he  was  followed  by  six  hundred  armed 
red  men,  who  gave  him  a  start  of  three  hundred 
yards,  and  then  told  him  to  go. 

As  Colter  dashed  away,  a  fierce  whoop  arose  from 


SAMUEL   COLTER  125 

all  the  red  men  and  they  started  in  pursuit  with  con 
tinued  yelping.  In  a  few  moments  they  saw  that  it 
would  take  their  swiftest  runners  to  overhaul  the 
white  man,  for  he  sped  along  like  a  greyhound.  They 
had,  however,  a  great  advantage  over  him,  for  his  feet 
were  naked,  and  there  were  prickly  plants,  sand  bars, 
and  sharp  stones  upon  the  plain.  Their  feet,  on  the 
other  hand,  were  protected  by  stout  deer-skin  moc 
casins. 

On,  on,  sped  the  gallant  scout,  although  his  feet 
were  cruelly  lacerated  by  the  stones  and  shrubs.  On, 
on,  he  went,  while  the  shouting  of  the  red  men  died 
away,  as  they  perceived  that  he  was  out-distancing 
them.  None  caught  up  to  him,  in  fact,  he  drew  rap 
idly  away  from  the  very  swiftest  of  them  all. 

After  a  run  of  three  miles  Colter  glanced  back 
over  his  shoulder  and  saw  that  one  of  his  pursuers 
was  holding  his  own  with  him.  He  had  headed 
towards  the  Jefferson  Fork  of  the  Missouri  River, 
and  knew  that  if  he  once  reached  the  water  he  could 
doubtless  hide  himself.  The  pursuing  red  man  had 
a  spear  in  his  hand,  and,  so  fleet  was  he,  that  he  was 
soon  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  trapper. 

"If  I  do  not  stop  this  Indian/'  said  Colter  to  him 
self,  "  it  is  all  over  with  me." 

Straining  every  muscle  in  order  to  get  away,  Colter 
suddenly  felt  the  blood  gushing  from  his  nose,  and 
knew  that  a  slight  hemorrhage  had  been  occasioned 
by  his  efforts.  He  was  but  a  mile  from  the  river,  and, 
again  looking  back,  saw  the  Indian  within  twenty 
yards  of  him.  Escape  was  now  impossible.  Turning 


126        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

swiftly  around,  —  he  stood  absolutely  still  and  opened 
his  arms. 

The  red  man  was  astounded  at  this  unexpected 
action,  and,  in  endeavoring  to  check  his  headway,  fell 
to  the  ground.  The  lance,  meanwhile,  flew  from  his 
hand  and  stuck  into  the  earth  a  considerable  distance 
from  him,  where  it  broke  off.  Luck  was  with  the  half- 
winded  man  of  the  plains,  who  now  turned  about, 
seized  the  broken  spear-head,  and  darted  swiftly  to 
the  side  of  the  prostrate  red  man. 

The  trapper  aimed  the  sharp  lance  at  the  Indian, 
and  drove  it  into  him  with  such  force  that  he  was 
pinned  to  the  earth.  A  deep  groan  came  from  the 
helpless  brave,  as  the  backwoodsman  again  turned  to 
run  towards  the  river,  although  he  was  now  exhausted 
by  loss  of  blood  and  by  the  terrible  race  for  life.  His 
pursuers  were  still  far  behind,  and  he  reached  Jeffer 
son's  Fork  so  far  ahead  of  them  that  they  could  not 
see  him.  One  spring  —  he  had  leaped  into  the  water 
—  and  was  swimming  towards  a  little  island  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  bank. 

Upon  the  edge  of  this  had  lodged  a  clump  of  sticks 
and  floating  brush.  Colter  made  for  it  and  dove  be 
neath  the  tangled  mass;  emerging  somewhere  in  its 
centre,  with  his  head  between  two  giant  logs.  Breath 
ing  with  great  difficulty,  and  faint  from  his  exhaust 
ing  run,  he  waited  with  throbbing  heart  for  the  red 
men  to  arrive.  This  they  did  very  shortly. 

They  had  stopped  beside  the  body  of  their  comrade 
and  found  that  he  was  in  his  death-agony.  Infuriated 
by  this,  and  with  terrific  yells,  they  again  set  out  in 


SAMUEL   COLTER  127 

pursuit  of  Colter,  who  heard  their  vindictive  screech 
ing  as  they  reached  the  bank.  Some  of  them  swam 
out  to  the  island  and  punched  about  in  the  drift  with 
their  spears.  As  they  did  so,  the  trapper  drew  down 
in  the  water  so  that  only  his  nose  was  exposed.  He 
remained  thus  for  about  half  an  hour,  when  the  red 
skins  gave  up  their  search  and  returned  to  the  body 
of  the  fallen  chieftain.  Colter  feared  that  they  might 
set  fire  to  the  drift,  but  this  idea  did  not  seem  to  have 
entered  the  minds  of  the  Blackfeet,  who  began  a 
hideous  wailing  as  they  gathered  around  their  leader. 
Carrying  him  upon  their  shoulders,  they  started  back 
to  their  camp,  and  gradually  their  wild  lamentations 
died  away  in  the  shadows  of  the  forest. 

The  trapper  was  in  a  desperate  predicament,  for  he 
was  without  either  clothes  or  rifle.  His  feet  had  been 
lacerated  by  the  stones  and  plants  so  that  he  could 
walk  only  with  difficulty,  and  his  body  was  chilled 
by  his  long  immersion  in  the  cold  waters  of  the 
river.  Certainly  there  was  no  brilliant  prospect  before 
him,  for  he  was  miles  from  any  settlement.  Would 
you  not  think  that  he  would  have  become  abso 
lutely  disheartened  and  would  have  given  up  in 
despair  ? 

Not  so  with  this  bold  follower  of  Lewis  and  Clark. 
After  a  day's  rest  and  a  meal  of  berries,  grass  and 
stalks  from  a  shrub  known  as  the  sheep  sorrel,  he 
started  for  Lisa's  Fort  on  the  Yellowstone,  a  distance 
of  a  week's  hard  journey.  Fortune  favored  this  man 
of  iron.  Toads,  frogs,  and  insects  became  his  food, 
and  with  clothing  of  bark  and  reeds  he  finally  reached 


128        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

the  hospitable  shelter  of  Manuel  Lisa's  trading  station. 
He  was  scarcely  recognizable. 

Colter  had  suffered  untold  agony  from  thirst,  from 
hunger  and  from  cold.  The  evenings  are  chilly  in 
this  country  —  even  in  summer  —  and,  although  he 
made  a  fire  by  rubbing  two  dry  sticks  together,  he 
shivered  all  through  the  night.  The  wild  sheep  sorrel 
had  given  him  most  needed  nourishment,  while  the 
body  of  a  dead  rabbit,  which  he  fortunately  stumbled 
upon,  had  brought  sufficient  strength  to  carry  him  to 
the  Fort.  No  wonder  that  the  trappers  there  gave 
three  rousing  cheers  for  this  frontier  hero. 

In  ten  days  after  his  arrival  at  the  group  of  log 
huts,  Samuel  Colter  was  again  fit  for  service,  but 
Lewis  and  Clark  were  already  far  away  upon  their 
transcontinental  journey.  He  remained  at  the  Fort, 
had  several  brushes  with  the  Blackfeet,  and  eventu 
ally  found  his  way  back  to  the  settlements,  where  he 
was  much  admired  for  his  nerve  and  courage  in 
eluding  the  wild  denizens  of  the  plains  near  the  head 
waters  of  the  Missouri.  Certainly  he  had  good  reason 
to  be  proud  of  his  escape  from  the  bloodthirsty  hands 
of  the  Blackfoot  warriors.  Three  cheers  for  brave 
Sam  Colter!  He  well  deserves  to  be  remembered  as 
a  Marathon  runner  who  ran  a  more  thrilling  race  than 
the  tame  affairs  of  the  present  day,  where  no  band 
of  savages,  who  are  thirsting  for  one's  gore,  pursue 
the  struggling  athletes. 


MESHACK    BROWNING: 

THE  CELEBRATED   BEAR  HUNTER  OF 
THE    ALLEGHANIES 

IN  1781  was  born  in  Frederick  County,  Maryland, 
a  pioneer  who  was  truly  entitled  to  the  name  of 
"  The  Mighty  Hunter/'  The  son  of  one  of  Gen 
eral  Braddock's  soldiers,  who  had  settled  in  this  beau 
tiful  country,  Meshack  Browning  lived  his  life  in  the 
wild  fastnesses  of  the  then  uncleared  mountains  of 
the  Blue  Ridge,  and,  at  the  close  of  a  long  and  event 
ful  career  as  a  huntsman  and  trapper,  could  say  with 
pride  that  he  had  killed  from  eighteen  hundred  to 
two  thousand  deer;  from  three  to  four  hundred 
beaver;  about  fifty  panthers;  and  scores  of  wolves 
and  wildcats.  He  was  the  hero  of  every  man's  conver 
sation  in  this  mountain  republic.  All  looked  up  to 
the  hardy  pioneer,  and,  after  his  long  and  eventful 
life  was  brought  to  a  close,  when  well  beyond  eighty 
years  of  age,  no  one  was  more  cordially  missed  than 
this  sturdy  old  man  of  the  mountains. 

Young  Meshack's  father  died  when  he  was  an  in 
fant  of  but  two  weeks  of  age,  leaving  his  mother 
desperately  poor,  with  one  daughter  named  Dorcas, 
and  three  sons.  It  was  a  hard  struggle  to  bring  them 
up,  but  by  working  in  the  garden,  by  raising  plenty  of 
vegetables,  and  by  spinning,  saving  and  knitting,  the 

129 


130        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

good  lady  managed  to  scrape  along  somehow  or  other. 
Little  Meshack  had  to  learn  how  to  use  the  rifle  at 
an  early  age,  for  by  this  means  only  was  it  possible 
to  supply  the  larder  with  fresh  meat.  Wild  turkeys 
were  abundant;  deer,  wildcats,  wolves  and  bear 
roamed  all  through  the  rugged  hills  round  about  their 
home.  Thus  he  quickly  became  expert  in  the  use  of 
the  flintlock. 

The  hunting  season  usually  began  in  October,  and 
during  this  month  the  task  was  commenced  of  laying 
in  the  winter's  provisions.  Some  days  little  Meshack 
would  go  out  with  a  kindly  uncle  who  had  joined 
the  family  and  would  hunt  for  deer.  On  other  days 
he  would  chase  after  bees,  and  as  he  and  his  uncle 
were  most  successful  in  this  kind  of  hunting,  they 
would  often  spend  more  time  in  searching  for  honey 
than  in  seeking  venison.  It  would  not  be  long  before 
the  table  would  be  well  supplied  with  both  deer  steaks 
and  honey.  The  high,  fresh  grass  which  surrounded 
the  log  cabin  would  cause  their  cows  to  give  a  quan 
tity  of  milk,  from  which  little  Meshack's  aunt,  who 
was  an  industrious  woman,  made  plenty  of  butter; 
and  frequently  a  fat  turkey  would  be  added  to  the 
store.  Thus  life  was  simple,  easy,  and  healthful  in 
the  wild  fastnesses  of  the  Blue  Ridge. 

Things  went  on  well  enough  until  word  came  to 
the  pioneers  that  General  St.  Clair's  army  had  been 
defeated  and  cut  to  pieces  by  the  redskins  under  Little 
Turtle,  which  you  no  doubt  remember.  This  was 
frightful  news,  and  little  Meshack's  mother  was  very 
much  afraid. 


MESHACK  BROWNING  131 

"  What  if  the  Indians  fall  upon  us  here/*  said  she. 
"  We  could  not  protect  ourselves  against  these  ter 
rible  red  men.  Let  us  move  further  back  into  the 
country  where  there  are  more  white  people.  We  can 
thus  combine  for  our  own  defense." 

Meshack's  uncle  thought  about  the  same  way,  so, 
packing  up  their  few  belongings,  the  little  family  hur 
ried  to  a  place  called  the  "  Blooming  Rose,"  where 
there  were  thirty  or  forty  other  families.  This  was 
in  1792  —  long,  long  ago,  it  seems  —  and  yet  I,  my 
self,  have  known  old  fellows  of  these  mountains  who 
appeared  to  be  well  conversant  with  the  terrible  battles 
of  St.  Clair,  "  Mad  Anthony  "  Wayne,  and  the  red 
skins  under  Little  Turtle.  These  many  struggles  had 
been  often  narrated  to  them  by  their  parents;  most  of 
whom  had  taken  part  in  those  stirring  events. 

Not  long  after  coming  to  this  settlement,  the  youth 
ful  Meshack  had  his  first  adventure  with  a  bear. 
While  milking  a  cow  one  day,  he  heard  a  great  deal 
of  noise  at  the  house,  and  inquiring  what  it  all  meant, 
was  told  by  one  of  the  girls  who  lived  there  that  a 
bear  had  just  gone  by.  Running  to  the  front  portico 
he  there  found  that  four  or  five  gentlemen,  who  had 
come  to  visit  the  owner  of  the  house  (bringing  with 
them  their  bird-guns,  and  several  little  dogs),  had 
gone  in  pursuit  of  the  beast.  The  dogs  were  so  small 
that  two  of  them  would  have  made  about  a  mouthful 
for  Brother  Bruin. 

The  owner  of  the  house,  Mr.  Caldwell,  was  a  suc 
cessful  bear  hunter  and  had  two  fine  dogs  which  were 
well  trained  to  fight  these  animals.  Meshack  called 


132       FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN 

them,  took  the  old  man's  gun,  and  ran  in  the  direction 
of  the  noise,  until  he  overtook  the  party  of  huntsmen, 
who  had  halted  just  as  the  bear  reached  a  clump  of 
woods.  The  little  dogs  would  not  leave  their  master, 
for  they  seemed  to  be  afraid  that  the  bear  would  tear 
them  to  pieces.  But  as  soon  as  Mr.  Caldwell's  animals 
scented  the  bear,  off  they  went,  heads  down  and  tails 
up.  Meshack  followed  on  behind. 

On,  on,  coursed  the  dogs :  on,  on,  went  Meshack. 
Hastening  towards  the  sounds  of  the  fray,  the  young 
hunter  saw  both  bear  and  dogs  turning  somersaults 
down  a  very  steep  hill.  Over  and  over  they  rolled, 
Meshack  after  them  as  hard  as  he  could  tilt,  and  the 
way  that  the  fur  flew  was  most  interesting.  The  fight 
became  desperate,  and  the  bear  found  that  his  hind 
quarters  were  suffering  severely;  so  severely,  in  fact, 
that  he  determined  to  climb  a  large  tree.  When  half 
way  up  to  the  lowest  branches,  he  saw  Meshack  come 
puffing  and  blowing  down  the  hill.  This  frightened 
him  and  he  attempted  to  descend  to  the  ground. 

As  he  crawled  slowly  towards  the  sod,  Meshack  let 
drive  and  sent  a  small  rifle  ball  through  the  middle  of 
his  body.  The  bear  plunged  to  the  earth,  making  two 
or  three  somersaults  as  he  did  so,  but  finding  the  dogs 
too  ferocious  for  him,  he  immediately  ascended  a  large 
oak  tree.  The  oak  being  forked  and  very  high,  he 
went  up  to  the  first  branch,  and,  lying  down  on  it, 
refused  to  move.  By  this  time  the  gentlemen  who 
owned  the  little  dogs  had  come  up,  and  as  many  of 
them  had  never  seen  a  bear  before,  they  began  to  con 
sult  among  themselves  about  what  was  to  be  done. 


MESHACK   BROWNING  133 

Meshack  had  no  more  balls  for  his  little  rifle  and  they 
had  nothing  but  small  shot. 

After  a  lengthy  discussion  it  was  agreed  to  try  and 
see  what  a  load  of  shot  would  do  for  Mr.  Bruin. 
Meshack  agreed  that  it  was  impossible  to  kill  the  bear 
with  that  and  told  the  other  huntsmen  to  let  the  beast 
alone  until  he  fetched  some  more  balls,  or  else  secured 
some  one  else  to  come  and  shoot  him. 

"  Stand  back  and  keep  your  counsel  to  yourself," 
cried  one  of  the  men.  "  We  know  how  to  handle  this 
rascally  bear.  Let  us  finish  him  off !  " 

Taking  aim  at  the  animal's  head,  one  of  them  again 
fired,  but  this  only  made  the  bear  snort,  scratch  his 
face,  and  climb  up  the  tree  as  far  as  he  could  go. 
Here  he  seated  himself  upon  another  fork,  and,  al 
though  repeatedly  shot  at,  would  not  budge. 

The  bear  hunters  were  feeling  very  much  discour 
aged.  After  a  long  parley  they  decided  to  send  for 
a  certain  pioneer  called  John  Martin,  who  could  shoot 
a  squirrel  off  the  highest  tree  in  the  woods.  A  scout 
was  dispatched  for  him,  and,  at  about  nine  in  the 
evening,  he  returned  with  the  famous  marksman,  who 
brought  a  rifle  shooting  an  ounce  ball.  After  the 
trapper  had  had  full  time  to  recover  his  breath,  which 
climbing  the  high  hill  had  rendered  rather  short,  he 
placed  himself  in  a  good  position  and  let  drive.  Mr. 
Bear  remained  in  his  place  unscathed.  Several  more 
shots  were  fired  by  the  old  fellow,  but  Bruin  simply 
hugged  the  limb  in  apparent  comfort. 

"  Here,  boys,"  cried  one,  "  is  a  Mr.  Morris  —  a 
Revolutionary  officer  —  who  has  killed  many  an  Eng- 


134        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

lish  soldier.  Let  him  have  a  crack  at  this  elusive 
mark!" 

"  Yes !  Yes !  "  called  several.  "  Give  some  one 
else  a  chance/' 

The  new  marksman  cleaned  and  loaded  his  gun, 
took  careful  aim,  and  off  went  the  musket.  The  bear 
snorted,  groaned,  and  made  a  great  fuss,  but  remained 
in  its  place.  Another  load  was  prepared  and  the  Cap 
tain  again  tried  his  luck,  when  the  bear,  apparently 
provoked  by  such  ill  treatment,  rose  from  his  resting- 
place  and  started  for  the  group.  But  upon  arriving  at 
the  lowest  fork  of  the  tree,  and  seeing  so  many  men 
and  dogs,  his  courage  failed  him,  and  he  again  lay 
down.  Mr.  Martin  tried  two  or  three  more  shots 
without  any  result.  Bruin  seemed  to  be  made  of 
cast  iron. 

"  Let  me  have  a  shot  at  him,"  said  Meshack,  at 
this  juncture.  "  I  believe  that  I  can  kill  the  old  boy." 

"  Stand  out  of  the  way !  "  cried  the  Revolutionary 
soldier.  "  I  am  sure  that  I  can  finish  him  off,  and 
I'll  knock  you  out  if  you  interfere  with  me." 

It  was  getting  dark  by  now,  and  Bruin  was  still 
unkilled.  It  soon  was  so  dark  that  Mr.  Martin  could 
not  see  the  powder  in  the  pan.  The  gun  missed  fire. 

"  Here,  Mr.  Martin,"  cried  young  Browning. 
"  Give  me  your  gun,  and  I  will  finish  this  confounded 
rascal." 

The  old  frontiersman  passed  him  the  piece. 

"  Take  it,"  said  he,  "  and  good  riddance." 

Meshack  felt  for  the  powder  in  the  pan  and  found 
it  empty,  but  having  some  in  a  horn,  he  placed  it 


MESHACK   BROWNING  135 

carefully  in  the  proper  vent  and  was  ready  to  try 
his  luck.  There  were  fourteen  men  now  around  the 
tree. 

The  young  pioneer  could  only  see  the  bear  by  get 
ting  him  between  himself  and  the  sky,  but  he  took 
the  best  aim  that  he  could,  and  fired.  Pow!  Down 
came  the  bear  this  time  with  a  thud;  and,  with  a 
wild  yelping  and  barking,  the  dogs  made  for  him.  A 
shout  of  horror  arose  from  the  bystanders  as  they  all 
took  to  the  trees,  while  over  and  over,  down  the  steep 
hill,  rolled  the  bear  and  the  dogs,  until  they  fell  into 
a  hole,  where  they  stopped.  A  terrible  snarling,  yelp 
ing  and  growling  now  ensued. 

The  last  shot  had  so  disabled  the  bear  that  he  lay 
upon  his  back  defending  himself  valiantly  as  the  dogs 
made  for  him.  Meshack  had  now  nothing  to  shoot 
him  with,  so  he  went  in  search  of  a  club,  and  pulling  a 
dry  pole  out  by  the  roots,  broke  it  off  short,  and  went 
into  the  fray. 

Creeping  behind  the  bear,  as  he  was  reaching  after 
the  dogs  in  front,  he  struck  him  on  the  head  between 
the  ears,  while  down  he  went,  the  dogs  attacking  his 
hindquarters,  meanwhile,  and  holding  on  to  him 
tightly.  The  tough,  old  fellow  uttered  one  despairing 
growl,  then  rolled  over,  stone  dead.  His  end  had 
come. 

Meshack  -kept  absolutely  still,  and,  as  he  crouched 
near  the  bear,  the  back-track  party  began  to  come  up. 
All  had  descended  from  their  trees  when  they  saw 
the  bear  rolling  down  the  hill. 

"Where  is  Browning?"  asked  one. 


136        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  Goodness  only  knows,"  answered  another.     • 

"  I  expect  that  the  young  fool  has  run  on  the  bear 
and  has  been  killed  by  him." 

"  Hello,  Browning!    Hello!  "  cried  many. 

Young  Meshack  would  not  answer. 

"  It's  no  use  to  call/'  said  one  of  the  tree  climbers. 
"  He's  as  dead  as  a  door  nail." 

Still  Meshack  would  not  answer,  because  he  wanted 
to  hear  what  they  would  all  say. 

"Hello!     Browning!"  was  repeated. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  at  length  cried  the  young 
pioneer. 

"Where  is  the  bear?" 

"  Here  he  is." 

"What  is  he  doing?" 

"  He  is  dead." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  that  isn't  true,  because  you  couldn't 
kill  him  without  a  gun  or  a  tomahawk,  and  you  haven't 
got  either  of  them." 

"  I  beat  him  to  death  with  a  club." 

"  By  George !  you  are  fool  enough  to  do  anything. 
We  don't  believe  you." 

So  saying,  they  gingerly  began  to  come  nearer  and 
nearer,  until  they  were  at  the  edge  of  the  hole  where 
the  bear  lay  dead.  They  would  come  no  closer  until 
young  Meshack  took  the  bear  by  the  foot  and  shook 
it  in  the  air. 

"  By  Jingo !  he  is  dead !  "  said  one.  "  Bully  for 
you,  my  boy." 

The  young  pioneer  now  held  up  the  club  with  which 
he  had  dispatched  the  bear,  and  each  took  it  and 


MESHACK  BBOWNESTG  137 

struck  the  dead  beast  on  the  head  in  order  to  say 
that  he  had  helped  to  kill  the  long-lived  animal,  but 
no  one  congratulated  Meshack.  In  fact,  several  let 
it  be  known  that  they  themselves  had  killed  the  tough, 
old  fellow. 

The  question  now  arose  as  to  how  Bruin  was  to  be 
carried  home.  Some  were  for  getting  two  oxen  and 
a  cart,  but  young  Browning  suggested  that  they  carry 
him  on  a  pole.  This  they  did,  and  staggering  and 
tumbling  onward,  the  animal  was  gradually  towed 
towards  the  house  of  Mr.  Caldwell.  The  bear  was 
laid  in  the  kitchen,  where  the  owner  of  the  house  came 
to  view  him  and  to  taunt  the  back-trackers  and  the 
climbers  for  their  cowardice.  When  closely  examined, 
it  was  seen  that  Captain  Morris's  two  shots  had  struck 
him,  one  passing  through  his  ear,  the  other  breaking 
two  of  his  tusks,  without  doing  any  serious  injury. 
No  ball  from  Martin's  numerous  fusillades  had 
touched  him  at  all. 

"  Your  shot  killed  the  bear,  Browning,"  said  he, 
turning  to  Meshack.  "If  the  bear's  backbone  had 
not  been  weakened  by  the  last  shot  he  would  have 
undoubtedly  killed  many,  if  not  all  of  them.  As  for 
these  fellows  who  climbed  the  trees,  it  was  a  most 
cowardly  trick,  and  the  same  thing  would  have 
occurred  had  they  been  in  a  fight  with  the  red 
skins." 

This  was  very  galling  to  the  back-trackers,  and  they 
envied  and  abused  young  Meshack  whenever  they  had 
an  opportunity.  When  the  bear  was  cut  up  they  even 
did  not  wish  to  give  Meshack  a  share  of  it,  but  Mr. 


138        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Caldwell  insisted  that  he  should  have  his  just  pro 
portion  of  the  game. 

"  I  have  no  use  for  the  meat,  sir,"  said  the  youthful 
pioneer.  "  But  if  you  will  give  me  the  skin,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  it." 

Mr.  Caldwell  immediately  took  up  the  hide  and 
presented  it  to  him. 

"  It  is  justly  yours,"  said  he,  "  for  my  dogs  treed 
him,  and  you  killed  him.  You  have  a  right  to  the 
skin,  because  it  has  always  been  a  rule  among  hunters 
that  the  first  blood  drawn  takes  the  skin,  be  it  bear 
or  deer." 

Thus  ended  the  young  trapper's  first  bear  fight. 
It  raised  his  reputation  as  a  fearless  boy,  and  made 
him  admired  and  respected  by  all  the  stout  backwoods 
men  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  Frequently,  thereafter,  when 
he  would  be  seated  in  the  kitchen  with  the  other  chil 
dren,  they  would  induce  him  to  tell  the  whole  tale  and 
would  ridicule  the  back-track  huntsmen  for  their  cow 
ardly  conduct.  One  of  them,  Miss  Nancy  Lee,  said 
to  him  one  evening : 

"  Browning,  I  always  thought  that  you  were  a 
great  coward,  but  I  do  not  think  so-  now.  And  I 
heard  father  tell  a  strange  man  the  other  day  that  if 
he  had  you  in  an  Indian  fight  he  knew  that  you  would 
attack  the  redskins  as  fearlessly  as  you  did  that  bear. 
Meshack,  I  have  often  wished  that  I  had  been  born 
a  boy,  then  I  would  be  some  day  a  man  and  would 
be  able  to  kill  or  drive  away  the  red  rascals  who  fol 
lowed  General  St.  Clair,  so  that  they  would  never 
again  come  back  to  murder  the  whites.  If  you  had 


MESHACK   BROWNING  139 

seen  as  much  of  their  work  as  I  have,  you  would  feel 
as  vindictively  towards  them  as  I,  myself,  do.  Let 
me  tell  you  a  story  about  them : 

"  Some  years  ago,  before  General  St.  Clair  lost  so 
many  men  in  a  great  fight  with  the  Indians,  father  and 
mother  were  compelled  to  leave  this  place,  and  we 
all  went  up  to  the  Fort  at  Wheeling,  West  Virginia. 
The  neighbors  were  forced  to  vacate  their  farms,  also, 
and  go  into  the  stockade.  My  father  and  three  or 
four  of  his  friends  used  to  go  out  to  hunt  for  game 
sometimes,  and  a  few  pioneers  always  stood  guard 
while  they  were  away.  Others  worked  at  planting 
and  harvesting  corn  and  at  chopping  wood.  There 
was  ever  the  danger  of  an  onrush  by  the  redskins. 

"  At  length  news  came  to  us  that  the  Indians  were 
in  the  neighborhood.  The  Fort  was  put  in  the  best 
possible  condition  for  defense,  and  we  awaited  their 
approach.  But  no  attack  came.  Several  days  passed 
by,  no  sound  came  from  the  depths  of  the  forest  and 
it  was  supposed  that  the  savages  had  given  up  the 
assault.  But  such  was  not  the  case. 

"  One  day  two  Indians  made  their  appearance  on 
the  high  hill  above  the  town,  across  the  river,  and 
opposite  the  Fort.  They  fired  their  rifles  at  the  stock 
ade  and  then  went  slowly  away,  slapping  their  hands 
behind  them  in  token  of  derision  and  contempt  for 
the  frontiersmen  within  the  log  enclosure. 

"  Many  of  the  pioneers  were  outraged  by  such  an 
insult,  for  they  were  hot-tempered  fellows.  Several 
began  to  run  after  the  savages,  and  they  would  have 
all  gone  had  not  the  commanding  officer  stood  in 


140        FAMOUS   FBONTIERSMEN 

the  gateway  and  stopped  them.  Twenty-four  of  the 
boldest  and  most  dashing  ran  up  the  steep  hill  after 
the  Indians,  who  kept  on  retreating  as  if  with  no 
intention  to  offer  battle.  When  the  whites  reached 
the  summit,  they  suddenly  found  themselves  sur 
rounded.  Crack!  Crack!  sounded  many  a  rifle,  and 
bullets  began  to  whizz  by  on  every  side.  They  gazed 
about  them  in  dismay.  Fully  four  hundred  painted 
redskins  were  on  three  sides  of  them.  Their  only 
hope  was  to  turn  and  make  a  break  for  the  Fort. 

"  The  redskins,  meanwhile,  had  moved  to  their  rear, 
and,  as  the  frontiersmen  approached,  put  up  a  stern 
resistance  to  their  assault.  Many  fell.  Some  escaped 
unhurt  and  dashed  madly  for  their  haven  of  refuge, 
pursued  by  the  red  men  with  wild,  vindictive  yelping. 
My  father  was  one  of  the  last  to  get  through  the 
lines,  and,  as  he  ran  for  his  life,  with  a  close  friend  of 
his  before  him,  he  saw  his  companion  fall  to  the 
ground.  As  he  passed  him,  the  wounded  man  cried 
out,  '  John,  don't  leave  me  to  be  scalped,'  but  my 
father  ran  on,  as  he  knew  that  he  could  do  nothing 
for  him.  A  moment  more  and  he  saw  a  white  rene 
gade,  who  had  gone  to  live  with  the  Indians  some 
years  before.  The  fellow  was  close  to  him  and  car 
ried  a  spear,  mounted  on  a  handle  like  that  of  a  pitch 
fork.  He  was  at  my  father's  heels  when  they  ar 
rived  at  a  narrow  defile  in  the  hill  next  to  the  Fort. 
A  large  tree  was  lying  on  the  ground  and  another  small 
one  was  standing  very  near  it.  Something  tripped  up 
my  father's  feet,  and  in  he  fell,  between  the  two  trees. 
As  he  went  down,  the  white  renegade  made  a  furious 


MESHACK   BROWNING  141 

lunge  at  him.  The  spear,  however,  glanced  off  the 
log,  turned  its  point  upward,  and  stuck  so  fast  in  the 
standing  tree  that  the  white  savage  could  not  with 
draw  it  before  my  father  leaped  to  his  feet,  escaped 
unhurt,  and  reached  the  Fort  in  safety. 

"  The  poor  fellow  who  had  called  out  to  him  for 
help  had  had  his  thigh  broken;  but  he  crawled  upon 
his  hands  and  knees  to  a  hollow  log,  in  which  he  hid 
himself  until  dark,  and  then  wriggled  to  the  Fort.  A 
short  time  later  a  frontiersman  came  in  with  his  arm 
broken,  but  the  rest  all  fell  before  the  rifles,  arrows 
and  tomahawks  of  the  redskins. 

"  Thus  perished  twenty-one  of  the  best  and  bravest 
men  in  West  Virginia.  Their  death  was  a  great  loss 
to  the  frontier  settlements,  as  also  to  the  strength  of 
the  Fort,  which,  in  a  few  days,  was  hotly  besieged  by 
these  same  red  men.  Their  success  had  made  them 
bold.  Having  intercepted  a  boat  loaded  with  cannon- 
balls,  destined  for  the  use  of  the  garrison,  the  savages 
procured  a  hollow  tree,  bound  it  round  with  as  many 
chains  as  they  could,  drove  wedges  underneath  the 
chains  in  order  to  tighten  them  as  much  as  possible; 
loaded  it  like  a  cannon,  and,  at  a  favorable  moment, 
let  go  a  most  tremendous  broadside.  Whang!  The 
whole  thing  exploded  with  a  resounding  boom,  killing 
several,  wounding  others,  and  frightening  the  rest 
half  out  of  their  wits. 

"  They  did  not  remain  frightened,  however,  and 
soon  renewed  their  attack  upon  the  Fort.  Near  by 
was  a  log  house  belonging  to  Colonel  Lane  and  the 
assault  was  mainly  directed  against  this  place,  but  the 


142        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

redskins  were  driven  off.  The  powder  became  very 
scarce  in  the  house,  so  it  was  proposed  that  some  men 
should  run  to  the  log  barricade  for  a  supply.  Among 
the  volunteers  for  this  dangerous  task  was  a  sister  of 
Colonel  Lane,  who  said  that  she,  herself,  would  go. 
It  was  objected  to,  and  the  young  men  insisted  on 
going  themselves.  But  she  was  firm  in  her  purpose 
and  replied  that  the  loss  of  a  woman  would  be  felt 
less  than  the  loss  of  a  man.  Pinning  up  her  dress,  so 
that  her  feet  would  have  fair  play,  she  started  upon 
her  dangerous  mission. 

"  The  Indians  were  perfectly  astonished  at  this 
sight  and  did  not  fire  a  single  shot  at  her.  Thus  she 
reached  the  Fort  in  safety,  secured  plenty  of  powder, 
which  she  tied  to  a  belt  around  her  waist,  and  off 
she  bounded  again  for  the  house.  The  red  men  were 
not  so  lenient  this  time.  Suspecting  some  mischief, 
they  fired  a  volley  of  balls  after  her,  all  of  which 
missed  the  fleeing  woman,  so  that  she  reached  the 
house  in  safety,  with  plenty  of  powder  with  which 
to  withstand  the  future  attacks  of  the  savages. 

"  The  Indians  were  now  discouraged.  Capturing 
a  fat  cow,  they  roasted  her  hind  quarters,  had  a  feast, 
and  kept  up  a  fusillade  on  the  stockade  while  they 
ate  the  tender  meat.  When  the  repast  was  over,  they 
all  marched  away  in  profound  silence.  As  they  dis 
appeared,  a  settler  at  one  of  the  port-holes  drew  a  bead 
upon  the  last  savage,  but  a  random  shot  from  some 
where  in  the  forest  dropped  him  like  a  stone.  A 
wild  war-whoop  echoed  from  the  sombre  woodland 
and  the  Indians  had  vanished." 


MESHACK   BROWNING  143 

Thus  ended  the  story  of  the  attack.  It  was  a  thrill 
ing  tale,  and  Nancy  concluded  with  the  remark : 

"  I  think,  Browning,  that  if  the  Indians  were  to 
commence  hostilities  again,  while  you  were  living 
with  us,  you  would  fight  for  our  family,  wouldn't 
you?" 

"  Indeed,"  replied  the  young  bear  hunter,  "  no  In 
dian  would  ever  put  hands  upon  you  while  life  and 
strength  was  left  in  my  body  sufficient  to  save  you 
from  their  accursed  hands." 

And  he  meant  what  he  said. 

Not  long  afterwards  the  young  frontiersman  was 
married,  and  desiring  some  bear  meat  for  the  winter 
supply,  started  into  the  forest  in  order  to  secure  a 
quantity  of  this  article.  He  knew  where  there  was 
a  swamp  of  black  haws  (trees  of  which  bears  are  very 
fond)  and  so  he  walked  rapidly  for  the  bottom  where 
these  grew.  When  in  sight  of  the  place,  he  went 
around  it  in  order  to  let  his  dogs  have  wind  of  the 
thicket.  He  had  two  excellent  hounds  with  him,  the 
older  of  which  was  sent  into  the  swamp  in  order  to 
raise  the  game.  In  he  went,  and  he  was  scarcely  out 
of  sight  before  a  loud  snapping,  howling,  and  yelping 
came  to  the  ears  of  the  eager  huntsman. 

The  young  dog  was  crouching  at  the  heels  of  the 
trapper,  but  now  he  dashed  into  the  thicket,  also. 
Soon  there  was  hard  fighting  going  on.  Meshack, 
himself,  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the  direction  of  the 
battle.  When  he  came  up  with  the  dogs,  the  bear  had 
taken  to  a  tree,  just  out  of  their  reach.  He  was  a 
big,  brown  fellow ;  very  sleek  and  shiny.  As  he  heard 


144        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

the  trapper  rushing  through  the  bushes  he  let  go  his 
hold,  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  was  in  an  immediate 
battle  with  the  dogs.  Browning  ran  the  muzzle  of 
his  gun  against  him  and  fired,  but  the  bullet  struck 
too  far  back  to  seriously  injure  Brother  Bruin.  As 
the  musket  went  off,  the  dogs  closed  in  and  the  fight 
became  most  desperate.  The  bear  was  giving  them 
more  than  they  could  stand. 

Meshack  had  dropped  the  gun  in  the  weeds,  and 
had  no  means  of  protecting  his  pets  except  by  means 
of  a  large  knife  in  his  belt.  It  was  now  or  never, 
for  the  bear  had  one  of  them  on  the  ground  and  was 
biting  him  severely.  In  a  few  moments  it  would  be 
all  over  with  him.  Therefore  the  trapper  ran  up  to 
Brother  Bruin  and  made  a  lunge  at  his  side.  The 
knife  struck  him  far  back,  and  did  not  cause  a  mortal 
wound.  Still  on  he  fought,  though  the  blow  released 
the  dog,  who  arose  and  attacked  the  bear  again  with 
renewed  energy,  just  as  the  beast  attempted  to  crawl 
beneath  a  log  which  was  raised  from  the  ground. 
The  young  dog  caught  him  by  the  nose  as  he  went 
under,  while  the  other  seized  him  by  his  right  hind 
leg.  Both  held  fast,  while  Meshack  ran  upon  him 
with  his  knife  and  dealt  him  two  or  three  severe  blows. 
Growling,  snuffing,  and  breathing  hard,  the  tough  old 
Bruin  rolled  over  dead. 

This  was  one  of  many  such  adventures.  There 
were  also  encounters  with  wildcats,  panthers,  wolves, 
and  other  denizens  of  the  woods.  With  deer,  also, 
there  were  many  strange  happenings,  as  the  following 
will  prove : 


MESHACK   BROWNING  145 

In  February,  1800,  the  trapper  and  another  young 
man,  called  Louis  Van  Sickle,  went  into  the  woods  in 
order  to  catch  a  young  deer,  which  Browning  in 
tended  to  raise  as  a  pet.  The  Virginia  red  deer  will 
become  tame  in  two  or  three  days,  and  even  the  oldest 
bucks  will  prove  quite  docile  after  a  few  weeks'  con 
finement.  Several  had  been  so  tamed  by  the  trapper 
that  they  would  come  to  him,  put  their  nose  in  his 
pocket,  would  take  apples  or  moss  out  of  it;  would 
eat  this  food,  and  would  then  search  in  his  pockets 
for  more. 

The  snow  was  about  four  feet  deep  as  the  two  trap 
pers  went  into  the  laurel  swamps  where  the  deer  took 
winter  refuge.  As  they  drew  near  the  edge  of  the 
swamp,  they  discovered  many  paths  made  by  the  ani 
mals  as  they  came  out  of  the  thicket  in  order  to  browse 
upon  the  small  bushes  and  on  the  moss  upon  the  fallen 
timber.  They  struck  off,  down  one  of  the  paths,  and 
soon  saw  seven  large  deer  running  and  jumping  up 
and  down  in  the  deep  snow.  They  pursued  as  best 
they  could,  for  they  had  snow-shoes  on  underneath 
their  moccasins,  and  soon  Meshack  was  far  ahead  of 
Van  Sickle,  who  was  unable  to  travel  over  the  snow 
with  any  speed. 

When  the  trapper  reached  the  hindmost  deer,  the 
foremost  ones,  being  tired  out,  had  stopped  to  take 
breath.  The  last  one  attempted  to  pass  by  those  in 
front  and  leaped  into  the  deep  snow,  where  he  stuck 
fast.  Meshack  caught  hold  of  him  with  the  intention 
of  tying  him,  but  he  was  too  fat  and  strong  and  fought 
viciously.  They  were  struggling  together,  when  Louis 


146        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

came  up  with  a  long  clasp-knife  and  cut  the  throat  of 
the  buck.  With  the  knife  in  his  pocket,  Meshack  now 
ran  after  the  others,  and  soon  overtook  them  as  they 
were  crossing  a  small  branch,  with  steep  banks  upon 
either  side.  A  large  tree,  which  had  fallen  over  the 
stream,  lay  a  short  distance  from  the  ground,  where 
many  leaves  had  drifted  under  it.  One  of  the  bucks, 
being  hard  pushed  and  greatly  frightened,  darted 
among  the  leaves,  and  thus  escaped  the  eyes  of  the 
trapper,  who  had  his  attention  upon  the  deer  in  front. 
Meshack  passed  by,  pursued  the  others  for  some  dis 
tance,  caught  a  large  buck,  which  he  attempted  to  tie, 
but  he  fought  him  desperately,  and  was  so  strong  that 
he  could  not  handle  him. 

While  engaged  with  this  buck  he  heard  Louis  cry 
ing  out  from  behind : 

"  Hello !  Browning !  Come  to  my  assistance ! 
Come  quickly !  " 

Meshack  left  the  buck  and  ran  to  the  relief  of  his 
friend,  thinking,  as  he  did  so,  that  he  had  probably 
fallen  among  the  stones  and  had  broken  his  leg,  for 
the  ground  was  rocky  and  full  of  holes.  As  he  ran 
towards  him,  he  said  to  himself :  "  If  he  has  broken 
a  leg,  I  will  first  take  my  ropes  and  will  tie  him  to  a 
tree,  then  I  will  pull  it  out  straight,  set  the  bone,  and 
will  tear  up  some  clothes  and  wrap  them  around  the 
limb,  scrape  a  place  clear  of  snow,  build  a  good  fire, 
and  leave  him  here  while  I  go  for  a  horse  and  sled 
on  which  to  carry  him  home." 

He  was  to  be  agreeably  disappointed.  As  he  came 
in  sight  of  his  friend,  he  observed  him  lying  upon 


MESHACK   BROWNING  147 

his  back  with  his  knees  drawn  up  towards  his  face, 
and  his  large,  wide  snow-shoes  turned  up  to  the  sun. 
Before  him  stood  one  of  the  largest  bucks,  with  his  tail 
spread,  his  hair  bristled  up,  and  his  eyes  glowing  fire. 
He  was  carefully  watching  the  prostrate  trapper,  and 
every  time  that  he  moved  the  buck  would  spring  upon 
him  and  would  beat  him  over  the  head  and  face  with 
his  feet  until  he  became  quiet  again.  The  irate  deer 
would  wait  until  Louis  would  make  another  move, 
then  he  would  again  jump  upon  him. 

This  was  the  same  buck  that  had  hidden  'underneath 
the  log  when  Meshack  had  passed  by.  The  animal  had 
recovered  his  breath,  and,  as  Van  Sickle  approached, 
sprang  upon  him  suddenly.  Striking  the  astonished 
trapper  with  his  fore  feet,  he  threw  him  backwards  in 
the  deep  snow,  and  every  time  that  the  scout  would 
attempt  to  arise,  the  deer  would  attack  and  strike  at 
him  until  he  would  lie  still. 

How  often  the  buck  had  repeated  this  chastisement 
before  Meshack  came  in  sight  is  difficult  to  say.  When 
the  trapper  saw  his  companion  lying  motionless,  and 
hallooing  vociferously  for  help,  he  could  not  sup 
press  a  loud  laugh.  Van  Sickle  made  several  attempts 
to  rise,  but  in  vain;  for  the  buck  gave  him  a  sound 
beating  at  every  move.  The  prostrate  woodsman 
was  furious  with  rage.  He  cried  out  loudly: 

"  You  intend  to  let  me  freeze  here  in  the  snow, 
Browning?  That  is  death,  anyway,  and  I  am  going 
to  get  out  of  this  fix,  or  else  lose  my  life  in  the  at 
tempt.  Can't  you  drive  this  cursed  buck  away  ?  " 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  he  made  another  move,  and, 


148        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

as  the  buck  sprang  upon  him  again  with  his  fore  feet, 
he  reached  up,  passed  one  arm  around  the  animal's 
neck,  and  then  the  other.  Drawing  the  deer  close  to 
him,  he  vigorously  endeavored  to  upset  his  valiant 
opponent.  Meshack  continued  his  laughter,  for  it  was 
certainly  a  novel  wrestling  match,  and  the  buck 
seemed  to  have  the  trapper  at  his  mercy.  He  deter 
mined  to  let  his  friend  fight  it  out  to  the  bitter  end, 
without  any  assistance  on  his  part. 

The  buck  seemed  to  be  weakening  after  fifteen 
minutes  of  struggling,  and  Louis  now  raised  his  legs 
and  threw  them  over  the  animal's  back.  The  snow- 
shoes  were  somewhat  in  the  way,  but  he  withdrew  his 
right  hand  from  the  deer's  neck,  and,  as  he  lay  be 
neath  him,  began  to  strike  him  in  the  ribs  with  his 
closed  fist. 

"  It's  now  your  turn,  you  rascal,"  he  called  out. 
;<  You  have  had  your  innings,  and  it  is  now  my  oppor 
tunity.  How  do  you  like  this  —  and  this  —  and 
this?" 

Every  time  that  he  punched  the  buck  the  deer  would 
grunt  and  endeavor  to  strike  him  with  his  fore  feet. 

Meshack  had  stopped  laughing  by  now,  and  walk 
ing  up  to  the  fighting  trapper,  said: 

"  Let  go  of  the  buck,  Louis,  and  I  will  finish  him 
with  my  hunting-knife." 

"  No !  No !  "  replied  the  woodsman.  "  I  have  a 
good  hold  on  him  now,  and  I  refuse  to  let  go  until 
either  he  or  I  lose  our  lives." 

He  continued  to  strike  heavy  blows  upon  the  buck's 
side,  as  Meshack  seized  the  animal  by  the  ear.  Now 


MESHACK   BKOWNING  149 

determined  to  end  the  affair,  he  quickly  dispatched 
him  with  his  hunting-knife,  and,  as  he  dropped  to  the 
snow,  the  prostrate  trapper  drew  himself  to  his  feet 
with  a  loud  shout  of  satisfaction  and  delight. 

"  Meshack,"  said  he,  "  you  have  saved  my  life !  If 
you  had  not  come,  I  do  not  believe  that  I  would  have 
whipped  this  fellow,  for  he  was  the  toughest  customer 
that  I  ever  tackled  in  my  entire  woodland  experi 
ence." 

Van  Sickle  was  so  upset  by  the  beating  which  the 
buck  'had  given  him  that  he  would  never  hunt  any 
more  unless  Browning  went  in  advance,  and  if  a  bush 
rattled,  would  jump  back  in  deadly  fear  that  another 
buck  was  coming  after  him.  He  was  severely  injured, 
having  many  black  and  blue  lumps  upon  his  head,  and 
one  very  black  eye.  Two  or  three  days  later,  he  ex 
hibited  a  long  war-club,  which  he  had  made  to  defend 
himself  with,  as  well  as  to  attack  the  righting  bucks. 
It  was  eight  feet  in  length,  with  a  large  knot  upon 
the  upper  end,  and  was  a  deadly  means  of  defense. 
He  would  never  venture  to  the  woods  again  unless 
Meshack  went  along,  and,  as  the  trapper  would  not 
go  with  him,  he  had  no  opportunity  of  trying  his 
murderous  instrument. 

Shortly  after  this  strange  and  novel  battle  in  the 
woods,  Meshack  was  asked  by  his  wife  to  bring  home 
some  young  turkeys  for  supper.  Telling  her  that  he 
could  soon  do  this,  he  called  his  dog,  Watch,  and  was 
off  into  the  woodland.  His  faithful  hound  had  been 
lame  for  more  than  a  month  from  the  bite  of  the  last 
bear  which  he  had  tackled,  and  was  still  very  stiff. 


150       FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN 

He  frisked  about  his  master  in  spite  of  this,  and 
seemed  to  be  all  ready  for  anything  that  might  turn 
up. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  trapper  saw  three  or 
four  old  turkeys  with  perhaps  thirty  or  forty  young 
ones.  He  sent  Watch  after  them,  in  order  to  drive 
them  towards  him,  but  they  flew  into  some  low,  white 
oak  trees.  When  Meshack  walked  fast,  as  if  he  were 
going  past  them,  they  would  sit  still  as  they  could  for 
him  to  pass  on.  After  taking  twelve  or  fifteen  steps 
the  trapper  would  shoot  off  their  heads.  He  thus 
kept  on,  until  he  had  shot  off  the  tops  of  nine  young 
turkeys.  This  was  sufficient  for  the  larder,  and  whis 
tling  to  his  dog,  he  turned  about  for  home. 

Watch,  however,  seemed  to  be  very  much  excited, 
and  kept  whining  and  sniffing,  as  if  some  species  of 
game  were  near. 

"  What  is  it,  my  boy  ?  "  asked  his  master. 

For  answer  the  dog  bounded  away  towards  a  large 
mass  of  rocks.  Here  he  began  to  bark  vociferously, 
so  that  the  trapper  felt  sure  that  a  bear  was  concealed 
near  by. 

"Fetch  him  out,  boy!     Fetch  him  out!"  he  cried. 

Down  went  the  dog,  and  into  a  crevice  in  the  rocks, 
while  Meshack  raced  to  the  other  side.  To  his  aston 
ishment  no  bear  came  forth,  but  a  huge  panther 
bounded  into  the  open,  and,  jumping  from  rock  to 
rock,  was  soon  out  of  sight.  The  dog  followed  along 
the  rocks  as  best  he  could,  and  both  quarry  and  pur 
suer  were  soon  lost  to  view.  After  a  few  moments, 
however,  the  dog  opened  again,  and  seemed  to  be 


MESHACK  BROWNING  151 

coming  back  on  the  other  side  of  the  stones  and  laurel 
bushes,  which  here  grew  in  profusion. 

Meshack  turned  to  follow  the  dog.  When  he  had 
gone  a  few  steps  he  heard  something  moving,  and 
wheeling  about,  saw  the  panther  creeping  close  upon 
him.  As  he  went  behind  some  rocks  Meshack  levelled 
his  rifle.  When  he  came  out  the  trapper  fired,  direct 
ing  the  ball,  as  near  as  he  could,  to  the  heart  of  the 
ferocious  beast.  The  gun  cracked.  The  panther 
sprang  into  the  air,  snapping  at  the  place  where  the 
ball  struck  him.  Then,  turning  towards  the  trapper, 
he  came  on,  put  his  paws  on  a  small,  fallen  tree,  and 
looked  his  adversary  full  in  the  face. 

Meshack  drew  his  hunting-knife,  and,  as  the  pan 
ther  made  a  lunge  at  him,  struck  at  him  again  and 
again.  The  sharp  claws  ripped  the  hunting-shirt  of 
the  bold  pioneer  and  gashed  his  arms,  but  the  fierce 
thrusts  of  the  hardened  woodsman  soon  made  the 
beast  cease  his  attack.  He  crawled  into  a  leaning  tree, 
where  he  sat  for  a  moment  glaring  at  the  man  in 
buckskin,  and  then  came  to  the  ground.  In  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  bleeding  profusely,  he  soon  dis 
appeared  into  a  rocky  cavern. 

The  bold  trapper  has  written : 

"  I  was  really  glad  of  it,  for  I  found  myself  so 
nervous  that  I  could  scarcely  load  my  rifle,  and,  when 
the  panther  was  looking  at  me,  I  was  determined  that 
if  he  made  an  attempt  to  come  near  me,  I  would  seek 
safety  in  flight.  He  would  have  been  obliged  to 
ascend  a  steep  hill,  and,  as  I  had  at  least  five  steps  the 
start  of  him,  I  do  not  think  that  he  could  have  caught 


152        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

me.  If  any  man  would  run  at  all,  I  think  this  would 
have  been  as  good  a  cause  as  any  he  could  have 
wished  for.  I  know,  furthermore,  that  I  would  not 
have  been  distanced  in  the  race." 

In  the  meantime  Watch  returned. 

"  Heigh  on,  Watch !  "  cried  the  trapper.  "  Go 
seek  him  out !  Go  seek  him  out !  " 

The  dog  was  off  in  a  jiffy,  and  descended  to  a  large 
mass  of  rocks  where  he  could  be  heard  worrying  the 
panther.  The  growling,  snarling,  and  yelping  soon 
ceased,  so  Meshack  hastened  towards  the  sound.  He 
saw  a  den  before  him  evidently  in  use  for  many  years, 
and  in  the  opening  lay  the  beast,  stone  dead.  Watch 
was  licking  his  chops,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Now, 
what  do  you  think  of  me,  old  boy?  Didn't  I  do  a 
good  day's  work,  eh?" 

Meshack  was  delighted,  for  the  panther  was  evi 
dently  an  old  stager.  He  was  of  tremendous  size. 
Many  a  dead  deer  had  been  found  in  this  particular 
part  of  the  forest  in  years  past,  so  it  was  evident  that 
the  beast  had  ranged  the  woods  for  a  long  time. 
After  his  death  no  more  half-eaten  deer  were  seen 
in  the  woods  by  the  hunters  and  backwoodsmen,  so 
it  was  plainly  evident  that  the  mighty  panther  had 
been  the  cause  of  all  this  loss.  Certainly  the  trapper 
had  had  a  dangerous  encounter,  and  had  had  a  nar 
row  escape  from  severe  injuries. 

Meshack  had  heard  of  a  great  den  of  bears  on 
Meadow  Mountain,  called  the  Big  Gap,  and  on  April 
4th,  1803,  he  started  out  to  hunt  them  with  a  friend 
called  Hugh.  They  were  not  long  in  reaching  the 


MESHACK   BEOWNING  153 

ground  where  the  bears  had  denned,  or  "  holed,"  as 
the  hunters  called  it.  "  It  was,"  says  the  trapper, 
"  the  greatest  place  for  bear  holes  I  ever  saw  in  my 
life.  I  really  believe  that  at  least  twenty  had  laid  in 
one  acre  of  rock.  They  had  all  left  their  holes  when 
we  arrived,  in  order  to  go  out  after  acorns,  except  an 
old  female  and  her  younglings,  which  were  located 
in  a  deep  place  in  the  rocks." 

The  dogs  soon  found  this  family  of  bears  and  at 
tacked  them,  although  the  old  one  fought  with  great 
fury,  while  her  cubs  ran  for  their  lives.  As  they 
passed  by,  Meshack  shot  at  one  and  killed  it,  although 
Hugh  missed  the  one  at  which  he  fired.  The  old 
bear  had  left  her  hole,  meanwhile,  and  endeavored  to 
follow  after  her  young,  but  the  dogs  worried  her  to 
such  an  extent  that  she  did  not  get  out  of  sight  of 
the  hole  before  she  was  shot  dead  at  the  first  fire. 
Two  of  the  young  ones  escaped. 

The  two  trappers  continued  their  hunt,  and  in  the 
evening  of  the  same  day  fell  in  with  another  old  fe 
male  and  two  young  bears.  The  dogs  ran  them  all 
up  the  same  tree,  but  the  laurel  was  so  thick  that  as 
soon  as  they  shot  the  old  one  the  young  ones  ran 
safely  away,  while  the  dogs  were  worrying  the 
mother.  The  dogs  soon  finished  the  parent  bear,  and, 
setting  off  after  the  two  young  cubs,  drew  so  close 
that  they  put  up  a  tree.  Running  after  them,  the 
trappers  were  not  long  in  dispatching  the  two  fugi 
tives.  Thus,  with  two  old  bears,  and  three  cubs,  the 
huntsmen  felt  that  they  had  done  a  good  day's  work. 
With  great  difficulty  the  booty  was  carried  home  by 


154        FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

means  of  two  horses,  and  enough  meat  was  thus  se 
cured  to  last  for  the  entire  winter.  Besides  this,  the 
hides  of  the  young  cubs  made  an  excellent  carpet  for 
the  cabin  of  the  pioneers. 

Soon  afterwards  Meshack  purchased  some  cattle, 
and,  as  there  were  scores  of  wolves  about,  on  the 
same  night  that  he  took  his  stock  to  his  home  he 
missed  one  yearling,  which  he  found  had  been  killed 
by  a  wolf.  This  made  him  very  angry. 

"  Mr.  Wolf  shall  pay  me  for  my  calf,"  said  he, 
"  and  with  interest." 

Taking  a  shoulder  of  the  calf,  he  laid  it  in  a  steel 
trap  and  placed  the  bait  in  a  running  branch  of  water, 
taking  care  to  hide  it  very  securely.  On  the  third 
morning  after  putting  out  this  snare  he  went  to  the 
spot  and  found  that  the  trap  had  disappeared. 

Rain  had  fallen  during  the  night  and  every  trace 
of  the  wolfs  footprints  was  destroyed.  Nothing 
daunted,  Meshack  returned  home,  called  to  both  of 
his  dogs,  and  endeavored  to  lay  them  on  the  trail. 
But  they  could  not  scent  it  on  account  of  the  great 
rain. 

The  trapper  knew  that  the  wolf  would  go  to  the 
nearest  laurel  swamp,  to  do  which  he  had  to  cross  a 
creek.  Into  this  the  pioneer  waded  and  walked  down 
it  for  some  distance.  Finally  he  saw  where  the  trap 
had  struck  the  bank  as  the  wolf  was  crossing  the 
stream.  Wading  back  to  the  dogs,  he  carried  them 
to  the  other  shore,  and  harked  them  on  the  track  of 
the  wolf.  At  first  the  trail  was  very  indistinct,  but 
as  they  went  forward  it  became  fresher  and  fresher. 


MESHACK   BKOWNING  155 

In  about  half  an  hour  the  dogs  began  to  give 
tongue  and  soon  were  hot  on  the  scent  of  the  wary 
old  fellow,  who  could  not  run  very  far  because  the 
trap  was  fast  to  his  hind  legs.  Finally  there  was  a 
terrible  hullabaloo,  and,  running  to  the  sound  of  the 
noise,  Meshack  saw  that  the  wolf  had  taken  to  a 
hollow  tree.  His  head  was  sticking  out,  and  every 
time  a  dog  approached,  he  bit  at  him  and  howled  dis 
mally. 

The  dogs  were  not  afraid  of  the  beast,  and  kept 
springing  at  him.  Every  time  a  dog  would  come  near 
enough  the  animal  would  snap  viciously  at  him,  and, 
if  possible,  would  sink  every  tooth  in  that  part  of  his 
body  which  he  could  reach.  He  was  a  terrible  fellow, 
—  black  and  shaggy.  Meshack  encouraged  his  pets 
to  do  all  in  their  power,  crying: 

"  Hark  on,  boys !  Lay  on  to  him !  Fetch  the  old 
varmint!  Bite  the  old  calf-killer.  Hit  him,  boys! 
Hit  him!" 

Finally  the  strongest  dog  took  a  deep  hold  on  one 
of  the  wolf's  ears,  while  the  other  seized  the  remain 
ing  one.  The  wolf  came  out  of  the  tree  in  a  second, 
but  the  now  energetic  attackers  threw  him  to  the 
ground.  Again  and  again  he  endeavored  to  recover 
his  feet,  but  they  pulled  him  over  and  over.  They 
were  all  growing  exhausted. 

At  this  moment  Meshack  seized  a  club  and  took 
part  in  the  battle.  Again  and  again  he  beat  the  old 
fellow  over  the  head.  Again  and  again  the  dogs 
rolled  him  about.  At  length  the  fierce  and  ferocious 
beast  gave  a  great,  despairing  kick,  and  it  was  all  over. 


156        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

The  trapper  was  delighted.  Taking  off  the  scalp 
and  hide,  he  returned  to  his  cabin,  and  subsequently 
sold  both  for  nine  dollars,  —  the  price  of  two  calves. 

"  My  good  wife,"  said  he,  "  I  told  you  that  I  would 
make  Mr.  Wolf  pay  me  well,  with  interest,  for  his 
incursions  upon  my  cattle.  I  have  done  it." 

And  his  wife  answered: 

"  Meshack,  you  are  a  man  of  your  word  —  God 
bless  you !  " 

One  other  adventure  of  this  famous  trapper  of  the 
Alleghanies  is  interesting,  for  he  had  another  start 
ling  experience.  This  time  he  was  accompanied  by 
his  good  friend,  Hugh,  who  was  often  his  companion 
in  bear  and  wolf  hunting. 

Deciding  to  go  after  bear  at  the  Big  Gap,  Hugh 
and  Meshack  went  into  camp  within  three  miles  of 
some  rocks  where  many  of  these  animals  had  previ 
ously  been  seen  in  abundance.  They  arrived  at  the 
hunting-grounds  quite  early,  having  one  of  their  best 
dogs  along,  a  fellow  who  could  handle  almost  any 
bear,  whatever  his  size.  The  animal  grew  very  lively 
when  near  some  rocks,  and  soon  ran  into  a  hole, 
where  his  yelping  was  intermingled  with  loud  growls, 
showing  that  some  large  animal  was  inside.  Again 
and  again  the  trappers  called  to  their  faithful  hound, 
but  he  would  not  come  out.  There  were  three  holes 
out  of  which  Mr.  Bear  might  come  bounding  forth 
at  any  moment. 

Meshack  had  given  Hugh  a  bayonet,  fixed  on  a 
handle  like  a  pitchfork,  with  directions  to  run  it 
through  the  bear  if  he  rushed  by  him.  He,  himself, 


MESHACK   BROWNING  157 

guarded  the  hole  at  which  the  animal  was  most  likely 
to  appear.  The  dog  was  making  a  terrific  noise,  as 
he  struggled  with  the  infuriated  beast.  The  fight  con 
tinued  for  half  an  hour,  at  the  end  of  which  time 
Meshack  espied  a  part  of  the  bear,  when  peering 
through  a  small  crack  in  the  rock.  Putting  his  mus 
ket  to  the  opening  he  fired.  With  a  roar  and  rush 
the  wounded  beast  dashed  into  the  open. 

"  Run  your  bayonet  through  him,  Hugh !  "  yelled 
the  trapper.  "  Run  your  bayonet  through  him  before 
he  gets  away !  " 

But  Hugh  was  too  timid  to  make  the  attempt.  The 
enraged  animal  passed  him  with  an  evil  snarl,  and  as 
he  scampered  to  a  tree  Meshack  vainly  endeavored 
to  ram  another  ball  home  in  his  rifle.  The  animal 
climbed  slowly  up  to  a  limb  and  lay  there  growling 
evilly. 

"  Now  is  your  chance,  Meshack !  "  shouted  Hugh. 
"  Get  after  him !  Give  him  a  dose  of  lead !  " 

The  trapper  approached  in  order  to  secure  a  bead 
upon  his  victim,  and,  standing  beneath  the  tree,  was 
just  raising  his  rifle  so  as  to  take  good  aim,  when, 
with  a  mighty  rush,  Bruin  came  at  him,  through  the 
air.  It  was  an  unexpected  attack,  and  quite  out  of 
the  ordinary,  so  you  can  well  imagine  what  must  the 
feelings  of  the  trapper  have  been,  as  the  bear  whirled 
above  his  head.  Stepping  aside,  he  fired  at  the  brown 
mass  just  as  it  reached  the  ground. 

The  fighting  beast  made  a  savage  stroke  at  the  trap 
per's  legs  with  his  right  paw,  but  Meshack  was  too 
quick  for  him  and  jumped  swiftly  aside.  Again  and 


158        FAMOUS   FEONTIEKSMEN 

again  the  monster  endeavored  to  get  a  blow  in  upon 
the  pioneer,  but  each  time 'the  trapper  dodged.  Just 
then  his  dog  appeared,  seized  Bruin  by  the  hind  leg, 
causing  the  old  fellow  to  turn  about,  and  snap  at  his 
antagonist.  This  gave  the  trapper  a  chance  to  load, 
and,  quickly  ramming  home  another  ball,  he  pointed 
his  flintlock  at  the  struggling  beast,  pulled  the  trigger, 
and  planted  a  bullet  in  his  body  near  the  heart.  With 
a  savage  growl  of  despair  the  bear  dropped  to  the 
ground,  where  the  faithful  dog  soon  terminated  his 
career. 

"  Hugh,  where  were  you  all  this  time  ?  "  asked  the 
smiling  Meshack. 

His  companion  approached;  much  abashed  at  the 
small  part  he  had  taken  in  the  fray. 

"  R-e-ally,"  said  he,  "  I  feared  that  my  weapon  was 
not  sufficiently  strong  in  order  to  dispatch  this  mon 
ster.  It  might  have  bent,  you  know.  Then,  where 
would  I  have  been  ?  " 

Meshack  laughed  loudly. 

"  Well,  I  reckon,  you  would  have  been  bent,  too," 
said  he.  "  For  this  fellow  was  surely  a  scrapper. 
Here,  help  me  swing  him  on  a  pole  and  we  will  take 
him  home  for  the  winter's  supply  of  food." 

This  they  did,  and  Bruin  increased  very  materially 
the  slender  larder  for  the  winter  months,  when  snow 
covered  the  trackless  forests  and  it  was  impossible 
to  hunt,  to  fish,  or  to  secure  venison  or  bear-meat  in 
the  deep  and  sombre  woodland. 

The  early  settlers,  you  see,  being  but  few  in  num 
bers,  had  a  hard  time  to  maintain  themselves ;  if  they 


MESHACK   BROWNING  159 

had  not  been  extremely  economical  they  could  not 
have  lived  in  the  wilderness  at  all.  They  fashioned 
their  own  clothes,  they  raised  flax  and  wool,  which 
the  women  spun  and  wove  into  linen  and  linsey  for 
the  men;  and  made  flannel  for  their  own  wear.  If 
any  man  wished  to  hire  help  there  would  be  an  under 
standing  beforehand  as  to  what  the  wages  were  to 
be  paid  in.  Sometimes  pork,  beef,  honey,  or  corn 
was  used  as  a  substitute  for  money.  Sometimes  a 
calf,  pig,  deer-skin,  bear-skin,  coon-skin,  or  a  wolf's 
scalp  would  suffice.  The  settlers  all  lived  in  cabins, 
and  fed  their  children  on  bread,  meat,  butter,  honey, 
and  milk.  Coffee  and  tea  were  almost  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  A  few  of  the  older  ladies,  who  had  been  raised 
in  other  parts  of  the  country,  alone  could  use  these 
staples  of  diet.  Meat  was  plentiful,  for,  if  the  farmers 
could  keep  the  wild  animals  away  from  their  hogs, 
the  nuts  and  acorns  would  make  them  very  fat.  Pork, 
beef,  bear-meat,  and  venison  were  easily  obtained. 
Wild  meat  was  not  thought  very  much  of,  because  it 
was  most  plentiful  at  all  times. 

Politics  were  little  understood  among  the  men  in 
buckskin.  Most  of  them  were  Federalists.  An  elec 
tion  was  usually  held  on  the  first  Monday  in  October, 
when  all  the  settlers  would  gather  at  the  polling 
booths,  arrayed  in  hunting-shirt  and  moccasins,  almost 
every  one  of  them  with  a  big  knife  stuck  in  his  belt. 
A  stranger  would  have  thought  this  some  military 
party  going  to  war,  and,  if  a  quarrel  occurred,  the 
two  contestants  would  rip  off  both  coat  and  shirt,  and 
fight  until  one  or  the  other  acknowledged  that  he  was 


160        FAMOUS   FRONTIEESMEN 

the  beaten  individual.  Then  their  friends  would  take 
the  bleeding  combatants  to  the  nearest  stream  and 
give  them  both  a  good  washing.  This  would  usually 
end  the  quarrel.  The  people  were  generous  to  stran 
gers  travelling  through  the  country,  and  if  a  way 
farer  lost  his  path  a  hunter  would  pilot  him  five,  six, 
or  even  ten  miles,  until  he  was  out  of  danger  of  being 
lost.  They  would  refuse  all  compensation  for  their 
services. 

In  such  a  community  Meshack  Browning  continued 
his  life,  and,  in  spite  of  numerous  hairbreadth  escapes 
from  wounded  bears  and  panthers,  successfully  es 
caped  from  any  serious  injuries,  and  he  did  not  kill 
merely  for  the  sake  of  killing.  Honest  and  warm 
sentiments  stirred  his  bosom,  as  the  following  story 
will  show. 

One  day  he  was  following  a  large  buck,  which  ran 
into  a  crevice  in  some  high  rocks  and  there  lay  down. 
The  trapper  hurried  after  him,  and,  mounting  a  large 
boulder,  eagerly  searched  for  a  view  of  the  cunning 
animal.  He  stood  on  the  rock  and  looked  about  him 
with  the  utmost  care,  but  could  see  nothing  of  the 
buck,  until  casting  his  eyes  down  at  the  base  of  the 
rock  directly  below  where  he  stood,  there  lay  the  fine 
fellow  contentedly  chewing  his  cud,  apparently  con 
sidering  himself  perfectly  secure.  He  was  watching 
the  ground  in  front,  not  thinking  that  an  enemy  could 
approach  on  the  side  which  the  rocks  so  completely 
covered.  Let  me  here  quote  the  old  trapper: 

"  The  rock  being  fully  twenty  feet  high,  I  was 
obliged  to  shoot  nearly  straight  down,  but  when  I 


MESHACK   BROWNING  161 

saw  what  a  complete  advantage  I  had,  it  greatly 
marred  my  pleasure  to  think  that  such  a  noble  animal, 
possessing  all  the  beauty  bestowed  by  a  pair  of  fine, 
large  horns,  a  well  formed  body,  and  tapering  limbs; 
whose  life  had  been  innocently  spent  (never  having 
committed  an  injury  against  either  man  or  beast) 
should  be  thus  sacrified.  My  desire  of  killing  him 
was  so  weakened,  that  I  really  had  thought  of  letting 
him  escape  the  death  that  was  then  hanging  over  him, 
but  again  it  occurred  to  me  that  he  was  one  of  the 
creatures  placed  here  for  the  use  of  man,  that,  if  I 
let  him  go,  probably  the  next  hunter  who  caught  him 
in  his  power  would  surely  kill  him,  and  that  it  would 
be  as  well  for  me  to  take  him  as  to  let  any  other  per 
son  have  him. 

"  So,  taking  a  good  aim,  I  fired  at  this  monarch  of 
the  forest,  when  the  poor  fellow  gave  a  few  jumps, 
and  fell  dead.  I  declare  the  death  of  that  deer  gave 
me  more  real  pain  than  pleasure.  He  was  a  large,  old 
fellow,  his  head  and  his  face  being  quite  gray  with 
age.  I  took  his  skin  and  returned  to  my  cabin,  hav 
ing  the  river  to  wade  and  at  least  a  mile  to  travel 
before  I  could  reach  home.  The  winter  being  then 
near,  I  believe  that  the  death  of  this  buck  ended  the 
fall  hunt." 

The  seasoned  trapper  was  not  always  accustomed 
to  shoot  bears.  Sometimes  he  would  trap  them  in 
large  log  traps,  hewn  out  of  the  forest  timber  by 
means  of  the  axe.  To  entice  the  animals  into  this 
box,  he  used  to  roast  the  leg  of  a  deer,  and,  while  the 
meat  was  cooking,  he  would  rub  honey  over  it,  so 


162        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

that  it  would  smell  very  strongly  of  the  latter.  Then 
he  would  cut  off  pieces  of  this  sweetened  meat,  would 
tie  them  beneath  his  moccasins,  would  walk  through 
the  grounds  which  the  bears  frequented  and  would 
return  to  the  trap.  Every  bear  which  smelled  his 
tracks  would  follow  the  trail  to  the  trap  and  would 
get  caught  in  it. 

Shooting  wolves  was  also  varied  by  trapping 
wolves,  and  for  this  he  used  to  take  a  carcass  of  a  cow 
or  a  horse,  and  lay  it  in  a  small  stream  of  water. 
Then  he  would  go  off  some  distance,  so  that  the  wolf 
could  not  see  where,  and  would  cut  bushes.  He  would 
stick  the  ends  in  the  mud  so  thickly  that  the  wolf 
could  get  at  the  meat  only  in  one  place,  which  was 
left  open  and  clear.  The  carcass  was  so  laid  that  the 
wolf  could  eat  at  either  side. 

A  wolf  will  never  jump  over  the  bait,  but  will  hunt 
the  stream  for  a  place  to  cross,  in  order  to  go  around 
the  other  side,  and  eat.  Therefore,  the  wise  trapper 
would  leave  a  passage  for  the  animal  to  cross  the 
water,  and  would  set  bushes  about  so  thickly  that  they 
could  not  get  through  in  any  other  place.  The  stream 
would  then  be  widened  where  the  wolves  would  pass, 
so  that  they  could  not  step  over  it,  and  a  flat  stone 
be  placed  in  the  centre  with  green  moss  laid  on  top, 
so  that  it  would  look  as  if  it  had  never  been  moved. 
Then  meat  would  be  cut  into  small  pieces,  and  strewn 
on  both  sides  of  these  crossing-places,  both  above  and 
below  the  carcass. 

When  a  gang  of  wolves  would  come  to  the  meat 
the  larger  ones  would  drive  the  smaller  ones  off. 


MESHACK   BEOWNING  163 

These  would  run  about  seeking  food,  and,  soon  find 
ing  the  small  pieces  strewn  about  the  crossing-places, 
they  would  run  across,  stepping  upon  the  moss-covered 
stone  as  they  did  so.  Every  time  they  returned  they 
would  be  sure  to  go  over  the  place,  setting  their  feet 
precisely  in  the  same  position  on  the  stone. 

The  trapper  would  carefully  watch  the  marks  of 
the  presence  of  the  wolves.  When  he  found  that  they 
made  tracks  on  the  stone  by  wearing  away  the  moss 
with  their  feet  he  would  remove  the  stone  and  put  a 
steel  trap  in  its  place,  covering  it  over  with  green 
moss  just  as  he  had  covered  the  stone.  When  the 
animals  came  back,  in  order  to  seek  food,  they  would 
cross  as  before,  place  their  feet  in  the  trap,  and  would 
be  securely  caught.  The  old  ones,  being  at  the  meat 
when  a  young  one  would  be  caught  in  the  trap,  would 
not  be  afraid  to  return,  —  as  there  was  nothing  to 
scare  them.  After  a  while,  however,  all  would 
become  afraid  of  the  crossing-places.  Then  wise 
Meshack  would  place  his  trap  in  the  mud  where  they 
would  stand  to  eat  the  meat.  But  after  one  was 
caught  in  this  place,  all  would  desert,  and  trapping 
would  be  over  with  this  particular  gang  of  wolves. 

After  capturing  them  in  this  manner  for  several 
years  they  became  so  cunning  that  they  would  not 
touch  any  bait  which  was  offered  them.  The  trapper 
therefore  adopted  another  plan,  which  was  as  follows : 

He  found  that  they  would  pick  up  any  fragments 
of  old  bones  that  lay  upon  the  ground,  but  if  they  lay 
in  water,  or  close  to  it,  they  would  not  touch  them. 
He  therefore  saved  all  the  large  bones  from  the  table, 


164        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

particularly  the  joint  ends  of  beef  bones.  He  would 
beat  them  to  pieces,  mount  his  horse,  so  that  his 
tracks  would  not  be  scented,  and  would  scatter  the 
stuff  over  a  considerable  area  of  land.  Around  this 
space  he  would  then  stick  some  bushes;  so  that  the 
wolves,  in  order  to  get  at  the  mess,  would  have  to 
pass  through  an  opening  in  the  brush. 

The  wolves  would  soon  find  the  bones  and  eat  them 
up.  Then  they  would  be  given  a  second  meal.  But, 
meanwhile,  a  trap  would  be  placed  at  the  opening  of 
the  bushes  and  would  be  stuck  in  a  hole  of  its  own 
size.  All  the  extra  dirt  would  be  carried  away.  The 
trap  would  be  pressed  down  an  inch  below  the  surface. 
Old  leaves  would  then  be  laid  over  it,  and  it  would 
also  be  covered  with  an  inch  of  buckwheat  bran,  which 
would  keep  the  wolves  from  smelling  the  iron.  Then 
the  skillful  trapper  would  take  some  of  the  grass, 
which  grew  around  the  spot,  and  lay  it  carefully  over 
the  trap,  so  that  no  eye  would  discern  the  difference 
between  that  particular  place  and  the  surrounding 
earth.  When  this  was  done  early  in  the  morning, 
or  before  a  shower  of  rain  which  would  destroy  all 
smell,  a  wolf  would  be  always  caught  as  he  came  up 
in  search  of  the  little  bones.  The  pioneer  was  most 
successful  in  this  method  of  defeating  the  cunning 
of  the  shy  and  treacherous  animals,  who  were  so  de 
structive  to  the  live  stock  of  the  settlers  that  a  con 
siderable  sum  was  paid  for  their  scalps. 

That  the  wolves  were  fearless  the  following  story 
will  bear  full  witness: 

A  friend  of  the  trapper's  called  Mr.  Calmes,  was 


MESHACK  BEOWKENG  165 

travelling  from  Virginia  to  Kentucky  with  a  number 
of  others,  at  a  time  when  the  Indians  were  very 
troublesome.  In  passing  through  the  wilderness  they 
saw  so  many  trails  of  the  red  men  that  they  were 
afraid  to  keep  a  fire  burning  at  night  for  fear  that 
the  prowling  savages  might  see  their  light  and  attack 
them  by  surprise.  They  would  therefore  let  their 
wood  burn  until  their  supper  was  cooked,  then  they 
would  smother  the  embers  and  lie  down  in  the  dark. 

One  night  they  heard  an  animal  moving  around 
them,  and  seizing  their  guns,  made  ready  to  shoot  it. 
But  the  animal,  whatever  it  was,  made  off  in  the 
woodland.  By  its  tracks  they  could  see  that  it  was 
a  huge  wolf.  After  the  excitement  had  subsided  they 
all  lay  down  again  to  sleep,  and  one  of  them  so 
stretched  himself  upon  the  ground  that  his  head  was 
exposed  outside  of  the  camp.  When  he  was  asleep 
the  wolf  returned,  and,  creeping  upon  him  stealthily, 
bit  him  so  severely  about  the  head  that  he  died  before 
daybreak,  without  speaking  a  word  to  his  anxious 
companions.  Mr.  Calmes  often  said  that  had  this 
ferocious  animal  found  a  man  in  the  woods  by  him 
self,  and  if  it  was  at  a  time  when  he  was  particularly 
hungry,  he  would  have  fallen  upon  him  and  would 
have  killed  him  at  once.  He  wound  up  this  grewsome 
yarn  with  the  sage  advice  to  the  trapper  to  kill  all  the 
wolves  that  he  could. 

"  Browning,"  said  he,  "  your  hunting  is  really  a 
great  service  to  this  country,  for,  if  you  come  upon 
one  of  these  sneaking  wolves,  you  must  spare  no  pain 
to  kill  him,  There  is  no  knowing  how  many  cattle, 


166        FAMOUS   FRONTIEESMEN 

sheep,  and  hogs  you  will  thus  save  to  the  inhabitants. 
I  was  going  to  tell  you  to  be  prepared  for  them,  but 
I  know  that  you  understand  the  rascals  and  will  take 
care  of  yourself.  Whatever  you  do,  do  not  let  one 
of  these  bad  fellows  escape  if  you  can  help  it." 

Meshack  Browning  did  not  do  so.  His  long  and 
active  life  was  one  of  constant  battling  with  the  wild 
animals  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  at  the  close  of  his 
career  all  could  justly  say  that  nowhere  had  a  more 
famous  huntsman  ever  lived  in  the  eastern  portion 
of  the  then  half-settled  United  States.  Now  little 
game  is  to  be  found  where  once  deer,  wolves,  bears, 
and  wild  cats  were  plentiful,  and,  although  sturdy 
and  honest  men  still  reside  in  the  Alleghanies,  seldom 
does  one  meet  with  a  character  like  this  bluff  old 
trapper  and  pioneer. 


"BILL"    BENT: 
HERO    OF   THE    OLD    SANTA    F£   TRAIL 

WHAT  one  of  the  plainsmen  did  not  know 
"Bill"  Bent;  "Bill,"  the  fellow  who  had 
battled  so  often  with  the  Comanches, 
Kiowas,  and  other  Indians  that  they  called  him  "  The 
Red  Panther:"  "Bill,"  who  had  killed  innumerable 
braves  in  open  conflict;  and  "Bill"  who  had  often 
just  escaped  the  scalping-knife  by  a  mere  hair's 
breadth  ?  The  old  fellow  was  a  true  plains'  hero,  and 
after  you  have  heard  some  of  the  stories  about  his 
escapades  with  the  redskins  I'll  warrant  that  you  will 
agree  that  he  was  a  marvellously  lucky  scout. 

In  1829  the  brother  of  this  fellow  —  Charles  Bent 
—  was  upon  an  expedition  to  the  mountains  near 
Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico.  With  him  were  numerous 
others,  well  armed  and  well  mounted.  It  was  lucky 
that  this  was  the  case,  for  every  day  a  cloud  of 
Comanches  and  Kiowas  hung  upon  the  flanks  of  the 
moving  line  of  trappers  and  kept  up  a  continuous  and 
rapid  fire.  Every  night  the  trappers  slept  upon  their 
arms,  certain  that  an  assault  would  come  before  the 
dawn.  Bill  Bent  was  several  miles  away  —  at  a  little 
frontier  post  —  and,  hearing  of  the  peril  of  his 
brother  and  his  friends,  determined  to  ride  to  the 
rescue. 

167 


168        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Old  Bill  rode  a  large  black  mule  with  split  ears, 
which  showed  that  he  had  once  been  owned  by  a 
Comanche  brave.  The  Comanches  soon  sighted  him, 
and  about  fifty  of  them  made  after  him  at  full  tilt. 
Arrows  and  bullets  whistled  about  the  head  of  the 
gallant  scout,  but  he  paid  no  more  attention  to  these 
missiles  than  if  they  were  flies.  Occasionally  he 
would  turn  in  his  saddle  and  drop  some  too  eager 
buck  whose  zeal  had  outstripped  discretion,  and  who 
had  galloped  within  easy  range  of  Bill's  deadly 
Hawken  rifle. 

"  Here  he  comes,  boys !  "  shouted  one  of  the  band 
of  plainsmen.  "  A  brave  fellow  is  after  us,  sure." 

Bent  came  dashing  up  and  reached  two  plainsmen 
called  Coates  and  Waldo,  who  fired  at  the  pursuing 
redskins,  bringing  down  three  of  the  foremost.  See 
ing  this,  the  other  Comanches  retreated  and  left  the 
little  band  to  plod  on  alone.  A  force  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty  Mexicans  joined  the  party  shortly  after 
wards,  in  order  to  be  protected  by  them  against  the 
overwhelming  numbers  of  the  redskins. 

The  frontiersmen  kept  on  their  way  across  the  lava 
dust  and  sage  brush,  but  the  Indians  —  although 
drawing  off  at  a  distance  —  still  pursued.  A  famous 
scout  called  Ewing  Young  was  travelling  about  twenty 
miles  off,  and  from  a  fleeing  Mexican  heard  that  his 
brother  trappers  were  sorely  pressed.  This  particular 
scout  was  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  generous  of 
men.  As  a  trapper,  hunter,  and  Indian  fighter,  he 
had  few  superiors.  He  had  learned  from  a  friendly 
redskin  that  the  mountain  canyon  towards  which  the 


"  BILL  '     BENT  169 

scouts  were  journeying  was  occupied  by  two  thousand 
warriors,  who  lay  in  ambush  waiting  to  entrap  and 
annihilate  the  whites.  Gathering  forty  trusty  men-of- 
the-plains  around  him  he  rode  to  warn  the  fleeing 
plainsmen  of  their  danger. 

"  By  George,  boys,  there  they  are !  " 

One  of  the  advance  trappers  spoke  thus,  as  —  from 
a  summit  of  a  high  hill  —  he  saw  below  him  the  vast 
horde  of  redskins  surrounding  and  following  the  re 
treating  scouts  with  whom  Bill  Bent  was  associated. 
The  redskins  set  up  a  wild  whooping  as  soon  as  they 
viewed  the  oncoming  whites.  "  Crack !  crack  I  "  the 
rifles  began  to  spit  and  spatter  at  the  advancing  plains 
men. 

The  scouts  were  courageous,  but  the  odds  were  too 
great  even  for  such  valor  as  theirs.  Swarms  of  In 
dians  enveloped  them,  shouting: 

"  Ki  yi !  ki  yi !  The  palefaces  will  soon  all  be 
dead!" 

At  this  juncture  young  Kit  Carson  first  showed  the 
material  that  he  was  made  of.  Riding  out  in  front, 
he  swung  himself  under  his  horse,  —  and  shooting  at 
a  redskin  from  below  its  neck,  brought  him  to  the 
ground. 

"  Bully  for  you,  Kit ! "  shouted  Scout  Young. 
"  But  these  infernal  redskins  are  too  thick  for  me.  I 
must  break  loose  and  retreat  to  Tavo." 

This  the  plainsman  speedily  did,  and,  although  pur 
sued  for  some  distance,  finally  got  safely  away.  At 
Tavo  a  crowd  of  trappers  were  assembled  for  their 
yearly  rendezvous.  Ninety-five  of  them  joined 


170        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Young,  crying :  "  To  the  rescue  of  Bill  Bent !  To  the 
fore !  We'll  clean  up  all  the  Comanches  in  the  state !  " 

"  Hurrah,  boys !  "  shouted  Young.  "  That's  the 
kind  of  talk  I  like  to  hear.  We'll  get  right  after 
them." 

The  Indians,  meanwhile,  still  pursued  Bill  Bent  and 
his  party. 

The  trappers  under  Young  were  not  long  in  riding 
to  the  rescue  of  their  comrades.  As  they  came  in 
sight  the  redskins  gave  whoops  of  disgust,  for  they 
saw  that  they  were  outnumbered  and  outclassed. 

"  Back  to  the  woods !  "  shouted  young  Kit  Carson, 
as  he  galloped  his  steed  in  the  direction  of  the  braves. 
"  Back  to  the  plains,  for  we'll  get  you  now ! " 

As  the  party  came  on,  Bill  Bent's  followers  set  up 
a  wild  whooping.  "  We're  saved !  "  cried  several. 
"  Old  Scout  Young,  we  knew,  would  not  let  us  be 
annihilated." 

The  Indians  now  became  dispirited.  Seeing  the 
reinforcements  coming  up  in  battle  array  they  quickly 
retired,  chanting  a  death  song,  for  they  had  lost  fully 
fifty  men  in  killed  and  wounded. 

Bill  Bent's  followers  were  now  free,  and  Bill,  him 
self,  was  overjoyed  to  have  saved  his  scalp.  But  he 
soon  came  near  losing  it  again. 

In  the  winter  of  1830-1831,  the  tried  and  seasoned 
trapper,  together  with  Robert  Isaacs  and  a  comrade 
whose  name  is  unknown,  made  his  way  to  Arizona, 
on  a  trapping  expedition.  For  a  time  they  met  with 
fair  success  and  saw  nothing  of  the  redskins.  But 
one  day  they  were  surrounded  by  a  body  of  Mescalero 


"BILL'    BENT  171 

Apaches,  who  were  the  fiercest  of  the  savage  tribes 
upon  the  frontier.  The  Indians  were  one  hundred  and 
fifty  strong.  There  were  but  three  trappers.  What 
chance  had  they,  you  ask.  They  had  no  hope  of  free 
dom,  but,  as  Bill  Bent  expressed  it :  "  We  will  sell 
our  lives  as  dearly  as  possible  and  we  will  make  as 
many  redskins  go  under  as  we  can  before  we,  our 
selves,  will  give  up !  " 

The  trappers  threw  up  a  rude  stone  breast-work 
when  first  surrounded.  They  were  working  hard  on 
this,  when,  with  terrific  whoops,  the  Apaches  were 
after  them  on  the  charge. 

"  Go  easy,  boys !  "  shouted  Bill  Bent.  "  Make  every 
shot  count ! " 

Two  of  the  trappers  fired  as  he  spoke  and  two  of 
the  chiefs  fell  to  the  sod.  Before  they  could  get  out 
of  range  the  third  man  shot  off  his  rifle,  and  another 
one  of  the  braves  dropped  to  the  ground.  The 
Apaches  were  not  disconcerted  and  again  returned  to 
the  charge,  but  they  were  met  by  the  deadly  fire  of  the 
reloaded  rifles  and  the  pistols  of  the  trappers,  also. 

"Ugh!  Ugh!"  said  they,  "we've  had  enough! 
We  must  go  back !  " 

Conducting  the  siege  now  at  long  range,  the 
Apaches  kept  up  a  desultory  fire  for  two  days.  Then 
they  retired  in  disgust,  for  they  could  not  dislodge  the 
trappers. 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  Bill  Bent,  as  he  saw  them  going 
away.  "  Boys,  we  can  now  get  some  water !  " 

The  scouts,  in  fact,  were  nearly  dead  with  thirst, 
but  they  soon  found  a  spring  and  refreshed  themselves. 


172        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Leaving  Arizona  soon  afterwards,  they  avoided  any 
further  trouble  with  the  terrible  Apaches,  who,  re 
membering  the  drubbing  which  they  had  received, 
were  glad  to  allow  them  to  retreat  unmolested. 

The  old  Santa  Fe  trail  in  New  Mexico  was  much 
used  by  emigrants  at  this  time  and  was  well  watched 
by  the  redskins.  Should  a  train  be  slightly  guarded 
it  would  be  unsafe  for  men,  women  and  children,  for 
the  Indians  would  make  short  work  of  them.  This 
deterred  all  except  the  boldest  spirits  from  venturing 
where  was  certain  peril  and  probable  death.  But 
among  the  heroes  who  were  still  willing  to  encounter 
the  fearful  odds  of  Indian  combat  were  to  be  found 
Bill  Bent,  his  brother  Charles,  the  Waldos,  and  a  few 
others  whom  no  danger  ever  daunted,  and  who  saw 
a  splendid  field  for  trade  in  this  country.  In  1839  a 
party  of  these  men  applied  to  Andrew  Jackson,  who 
had  just  taken  his  seat  as  President.  They  asked 
for  a  military  escort  to  accompany  them  to  the  Ar 
kansas  River,  which  —  at  that  time  —  formed  the 
boundary  between  Mexico  and  the  United  States. 

This  request  was  speedily  granted,  and  Major  Ben 
nett  Riley  was  detailed,  with  two  hundred  men,  to 
meet  the  emigrants  at  Fort  Leavenworth  and  to  ac 
company  them  to  the  Arkansas  River.  The  traders 
met  at  Round  Grove,  Missouri,  where  Charles  Bent 
was  chosen  Captain  and  where  Bill  Bent  also  joined. 
With  thirty-six  wagons,  fully  freighted  with  valuable 
goods,  they  set  out  for  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico. 

In  due  time  they  reached  the  Arkansas  River  at 
Chateau's  Island,  and  here  the  traders  bade  farewell 


"BILL"   BENT  173 

to  the  gallant  Major  and  his  brave  soldiers.  Plunging 
into  the  shallow  waters  of  the  stream  they  were  soon 
on  Mexican  soil.  But  their  troubles  now  commenced. 
The  dry  sand  engulfed  their  wagon  wheels  almost  to 
the  hubs,  stalling  the  teams,  and  utterly  preventing 
an  orderly  march. 

"  Close  up !    Close  up !  "  Bill  Bent  kept  shouting. 

But  in  spite  of  these  orders,  the  wagons  were  soon 
strung  over  a  half  a  mile  of  road.  Advance  and  rear 
detachments  had  been  thrown  out  to  guard  against 
surprise,  but  either  through  the  negligence  of  the 
videttes,  or  from  the  completeness  with  which  the 
Indians  had  concealed  themselves,  they  had  only  gone 
nine  miles  when  the  savages  seemed  to  spring  out  of 
the  very  bowels  of  the  earth.  Their  rifles  spat  a 
deadly  fire. 

"  My  stars,  look  at  the  redskins !  "  cried  Bill  Bent. 
"  They're  after  us,  for  sure,  this  time! " 

The  surprise  had  been  complete,  but  Charles  Bent 
—  mounted  upon  a  large,  black  horse  —  with  his  long, 
dark  hair  floating  upon  the  wind,  dashed  up  and  down 
the  line,  forming  his  men.  Every  ravine  swarmed 
with  the  redskins,  and,  although  they  yelled  fiercely, 
above  their  loud  calls  could  be  heard  the  voice  of 
Charles  Bent. 

"  Close  up,  men !  Close  up ! "  he  kept  shouting. 
"  It's  our  only  chance !  And  keep  cool !  Keep  cool !  " 

Two  of  the  men  had  been  lagging  in  the  rear  of  the 
train,  and,  at  the  first  fire,  one  fell  dead,  while  the 
other  —  with  fifty  Indians  in  pursuit  —  dashed  for 
the  wagons.  Escape  seemed  to  be  impossible,  but 


174        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Bent  saw  the  situation  at  a  glance  and  charged 
towards  the  advancing  savages  with  twenty  scouts. 
The  Indians  drew  off  at  this  show  of  force,  and 
the  fleeing  trapper  was  thus  able  to  join  his  com 
rades. 

Crash!  Crash!  sounded  the  rifles,  and  the  battle 
continued  to  rage  with  fury.  Nothing  but  Bent's 
coolness  and  the  desperate  bravery  of  his  men  pre 
vented  a  charge  by  the  red  men,  who  numbered  at 
least  a  thousand.  Luckily  a  small,  brass  cannon  was 
in  the  train  —  the  first  that  ever  crossed  the  Arkansas 
—  and,  as  it  spat  its  fire,  the  Comanches  withdrew. 

The  trappers  now  dug  rifle-pits,  but  Bent  soon  saw 
that  without  water  his  men  would  be  unable  to  hold 
their  own. 

"  Who  will  creep  through  the  hostile  redskins  and 
go  after  Major  Riley  and  his  men  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Un 
less  we  get  his  aid  we  will  have  to  give  in  to  these 
frightfully  bloodthirsty  savages !  " 

"  I  will  go!  I  will  go! "  came  from  the  throats  of 
many.  In  fact  all  seemed  to  wish  to  undertake  the 
hazardous  journey. 

Captain  Bent  could  not  help  laughing.  Nine  were 
finally  selected  for  the  trip.  They  knew  that  their 
only  salvation  lay  in  their  rifles,  for  their  mules  were 
so  worn  down  by  fatigue  that  flight  was  out  of  the 
question. 

They  rode  out  expecting  to  have  a  tough  time  of  it, 
but  the  redskins  allowed  them  to  pass  through  their 
lines  without  firing  a  single  shot  at  them.  Spurring 
on  their  broken-down  beasts  they  hastened  towards 


"BILL'     BENT  175 

the  Arkansas  River,  where  they  still  hoped  to  find 
Major  Riley  with  his  troops. 

The  Major  was  surely  there.  He  saw  them  coming 
away  off  on  the  plains,  and,  striking  his  tents,  was 
all  prepared  to  meet  them  when  they  arrived. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  when  he  heard  their  story, 
"  it  is  a  breach  of  national  etiquette  for  me  to  cross 
the  boundary  line  into  Mexico  —  a  friendly  power  — 
but  blood  is  thicker  than  water,  and  I  cannot  see  my 
countrymen  suffer.  I  will  be  with  you  as  soon  as  my 
troops  can  pack  up." 

The  soldiers  were  soon  on  their  way.  So  rapid  and 
silent  was  the  approach  of  the  force  that  they  even 
penetrated  between  the  pickets  of  the  traders  and  their 
camp  before  they  were  discovered.  Cheer  after  cheer 
welled  from  the  throats  of  the  beleaguered  plainsmen, 
as  they  approached.  The  savages  heard  them,  and, 
seeing  that  they  now  would  have  to  assume  the  de 
fensive,  quietly  slipped  away. 

"Ow!  Ow!"  said  one  brave.  "We  get  those 
palefaces  yet." 

Much  overjoyed,  Bent  and  his  traders  again  started 
on  their  journey,  turning  their  course  from  Santa  Fe, 
which  point  they  at  first  intended  to  reach,  to  Taos, 
some  eighty  miles  further  to  the  North.  By  this 
detour  they  not  only  avoided  many  canyons,  in  which 
were  sure  to  be  lurking  savages,  but  were  also  able 
to  obtain  a  military  escort  of  Mexicans.  A  General 
Viscarro  —  with  a  goodly  number  of  Mexican  ran- 
cheros  —  accompanied  them.  But  there  was  still  to 
be  trouble. 


176        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

They  reached  the  rippling  courses  of  the  river  Ci- 
marron.  There  a  party  of  savages  approached  the 
Mexicans,  who  rode  on  in  front.  One  of  them  bore 
an  arrow  tied  transversely  across  a  spear,  it  being  the 
symbol  of  the  cross.  Viscarro  was  a  Catholic,  and, 
honoring  this  novel  flag  with  true  devotion,  he  was 
spoken  to  by  one  of  the  braves. 

"  If  the  Americans  will  move  aside  to  some  dis 
tance,"  said  he,  "  we  will  lay  down  our  arms  and  will 
surrender." 

Viscarro  smiled. 

"  Certainly,  red  brother,"  said  he. 

The  Americans  retired  beyond  a  ridge,  and  no 
sooner  were  they  out  of  the  way  than  the  treacherous 
savages  poured  a  destructive  fire  into  the  Mexican 
ranks.  Many  men  and  officers  were  wounded.  But 
luckily  the  two  Bents  heard  the  firing,  and  suspecting 
treachery,  gathered  a  number  of  mounted  soldiers  and 
went  to  the  relief  of  the  men  who  lived  south  of  the 
Rio  Grande. 

Now  was  a  desperate  affair.  Bent  and  his  men  burst 
upon  the  savages  with  fierce  cries  and  delivered  a 
deadly  volley  right  in  their  faces.  Their  rifles  were 
then  discarded,  and,  having  next  emptied  their  pistols, 
they  followed  up  the  attack  with  tomahawks  and 
clubbed  rifles.  Soon  the  Comanches  were  in  full  flight 
and  the  field  was  strewn  thickly  with  their  dead  and 
wounded. 

A  gallant  action  was  performed  by  a  Pueblo  (or 
Village)  Indian.  He  was  near  the  Mexican  General, 
Viscarro,  and  understanding  the  language  of  the  hos- 


"BILL'     BENT  177 

tiles,  heard  one  of  the  latter  exclaim  in  his  native 
tongue :  "  Now  for  the  General !  "  As  he  spoke  he 
aimed  a  bullet  at  the  body  of  the  Mexican  commander. 
The  Indian  threw  himself  in  front  of  him  —  at  this 
juncture  —  and  fell  to  the  ground;  as  noble  a  hero 
as  the  lists  of  chivalry  tell  of.  Viscarro  was  much 
affected  by  this  show  of  devotion. 

Thanks  to  Bill  Bent  and  his  brother  Charles,  the 
caravan  had  been  saved  from  the  hostiles.  It  was 
well.  From  this  time  on  nothing  exciting  occurred 
and  the  Americans  and  Mexicans  reached  their  re 
spective  homes  in  safety,  meeting  with  no  more  seri 
ous  annoyance  than  the  nightly  serenade  of  coyotes. 
The  disheartened  Comanches  had  given  up  their  at 
tempt  to  crush  out  the  travel  along  the  Arkansas  trail, 
and  fortunately  for  the  white  traders  entered  into  no 
more  military  combinations,  —  preferring  the  safer 
and  more  natural  warfare  of  the  small,  predatory 
bands.  They  could  then  move  quickly  and  could  cut 
off  small  unguarded  bodies  of  men. 

Bill  Bent  had  done  well.  Now  he  did  even  better, 
for  a  fort  was  named  after  him.  This  was  situated 
on  the  Arkansas  River;  was  first  called  Fort  William, 
and  was  the  property  of  Lieutenant  Vrain  and  him 
self.  Built  in  1833,  here  the  celebrated  Kit  Carson  ^S 
was  the  post  hunter  from  1834  to  1842.  Could  the 
walls  of  the  old  fort  speak,  they  would  tell  many  tales 
of  thrilling  battles  with  the  red  men. 

On  one  occasion  it  was  besieged  by  many  thousands 
of  plains  Indians.  All  of  the  tribes  had  determined 
to  lay  aside  their  mutual  dislike  for  one  another  for 


178        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

once,  and  to  league  together  for  the  extermination  of 
the  "  palefaces."  They  saw  that  the  white  traders 
would  soon  have  all  of  this  country  and  they  did  not 
like  the  idea.  Bill  Bent  was  approaching  the  fort  with 
a  wagon-train  about  this  time.  Knowing  that  two  or 
three  hundred  raw  recruits  of  the  United  States  gar 
rison  formed  its  only  defense,  he  hastened  rapidly  to 
its  relief.  On  his  way  he  met  several  deserters,  who 
(in  the  night)  had  scaled  the  walls  of  what  they  re 
garded  to  be  a  place  of  doom,  and  stealing  cautiously 
through  the  savage  lines,  had  fled  with  all  speed 
towards  the  rising  sun,  —  for  they  knew  that  help  was 
there. 

Bill  Bent  was  somewhat  alarmed  at  this.  When 
he  arrived  in  sight  of  the  fort  he  saw  that  it  was  men 
aced  by  a  great  and  awful  danger.  There  were  thou 
sands  of  hostile  Indians  dancing  their  war  and  scalp 
dances  around  it,  and  endeavoring  to  work  themselves 
up  to  the  proper  frenzy  in  order  to  make  the  attack. 
Bent's  blood  began  to  boil. 

"  Here ! "  he  cried  to  one  of  his  best  men,  "  you 
take  charge  of  the  train !  I  have  to  move  forward !  " 

His  hat  came  off  as  he  rode  on,  but  he  galloped 
straight  at  the  fort.  His  long  hair  —  meanwhile  — 
trailed  out  behind  like  a  banner  from  its  staff.  It  was 
a  trophy  which  any  of  the  savages  would  have  been 
very  proud  to  wear  in  his  belt. 

The  Indians  were  too  surprised  to  fire  at  him.  As 
he  dashed  along,  he  uttered  a  fierce  war-whoop,  and 
fired  his  revolver  at  a  savage  who  was  unwise  enough 
to  approach.  Behind  him  came  thundering  his  friend 


"BILL"  BENT  179 

and  ally,  —  Yellow  Bear.  He  was  a  great  Apache 
chief,  but  a  friend  of  the  whites  and  their  staunch  sup 
porter.  Strung  out  in  the  rear  were  a  few  Apache 
braves,  who  would  have  cheerfully  sacrificed  their 
lives  for  either  Bent  or  Yellow  Bear. 

Bill  Bent  reached  the  fort  in  safety.  So  did  Yellow 
Bear  and  his  braves.  The  wagon-train  came  steadily 
on,  its  men  marching  alongside,  fully  armed.  It,  too, 
reached  the  doorway  of  the  fort  without  a  mishap. 
Here  the  pioneers  found  Bent  getting  everything  in 
proper  shape  to  give  a  warm  reception  to  the  braves, 
who  from  their  actions  were  apparently  ready  for 
the  assault.  They  were  met  with  a  hot  recep 
tion. 

Now  an  unforeseen  event  occurred. 

Upon  the  morning  after  Bent's  arrival  the  lookout 
beheld  a  slight  cloud  of  dust  far  to  the  Eastward. 
After  a  while,  a  few  black  specks  could  be  seen.  They 
came  nearer  and  were  seen  to  be  Indian  videttes  with 
their  ponies  on  a  dead  run. 

The  videttes  dashed  into  the  Indian  encampment, 
said  a  few  hasty  words  to  some  of  the  chiefs,  and 
then  consternation  seemed  to  take  possession  of  the 
redskins.  The  squaws  began  at  once  to  take  down  the 
lodges.  The  travois  poles  were  slung  with  the  tents 
and  equipment.  Soon  the  entire  Indian  camp  was  in 
full  retreat.  Amidst  the  yelping  of  the  dogs,  squalling 
of  the  babies,  the  rattle  of  pots  and  kettles  piled  up 
on  the  travois,  and  the  insulting  yells  of  the  warriors, 
the  savage  host  of  besiegers  crossed  the  Arkansas 
River  and  disappeared  from  view. 


180        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"Why,  now,"  said  Bill  Bent  "Boys!  Seems 
they're  afraid  of  us !  " 

But  the  mystery  was  soon  explained.  Late  on  the 
evening  of  the  next  day  those  in  the  fort  beheld  the 
approach  of  a  regiment  of  United  States  cavalry, 
which  had  been  sent  to  its  relief.  The  redskins  had 
an  admirable  picket  system.  By  means  of  this  their 
pony  express  had  told  them  of  the  approach  of  the 
cavalry,  and,  fearing  that  vengeance  might  be  taken 
upon  them  for  their  hostile  attitude  and  war-like 
threats,  they  prudently  decamped. 

Bill  Bent  had  many  another  adventure  upon  the 
plains  which  was  as  thrilling  as  this.  He  was  known 
for  his  courage  and  was  never  badly  wounded,  al 
though  he  took  a  thousand  chances.  Sad  to  relate, 
he  married  a  Cheyenne  wife,  and  his  children  —  suf 
fering  from  this  taint  of  redskin  blood  —  never  at 
tained  the  prominence  upon  the  plains  which  their 
fond  parent  had  held.  At  last  the  good  old  fellow 
passed  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds.  He  had 
indeed  seen  the  wild  and  woolly  West  in  its  palmiest 
days.  Good-by  to  old  Bill,  hardy  frontiersman  and 
scout,  whose  reputation  was  spotless!  Good-by  and 
good  luck,  Bill  Bent! 


THOMAS    EDDIE: 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 
TRAPPERS 


"^TOU  will  do,  boy,  I  will  need  you!  " 

The  man  who  spoke  —  a  grizzled  old 
plainsman  —  nodded  to  a  strong-looking 
young  Scotchman  who  was  standing  before  him,  rifle 
in  hand,  and  motioned  to  him  to  take  a  position  among 
a  number  of  trappers  who  stood  near  by.  The  fellow 
who  thus  spoke  was  John  Ashley  (a  famous  trader 
and  explorer)  who  had  just  organized  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Fur  Company.  As  he  was  in  need  of  vig 
orous  young  men  his  heart  naturally  warmed  towards 
the  stalwart  youth  before  him,  who  was  yearning  for 
adventure  in  the  Far  West. 

This  athletic  frontiersman  was  none  other  than 
Thomas  Eddie,  who  was  now  twenty-four  years  of 
age,  and  whose  aim  with  the  rifle  was  steady  and  sure. 
Born  on  August  29th,  1799,  he  had  naturally  drifted 
to  the  plains,  where  he  was  as  quick  to  volunteer  upon 
a  dangerous  mission  as  were  "  Old  Bill  "  Williams, 
Bill  Gordon,  or  any  of  the  other  valiant  pioneers. 
He  was  a  fellow  of  iron  will,  and  the  older  members 
of  this  expedition  soon  found  that  the  canny  young 
Scot  would  do  and  dare  as  much  as  any  of  them.  As 
ready  and  willing  to  go  to  the  relief  of  a  stricken  com- 

181 


182        FAMOUS   FEONTIERSMEN 

rade  as  the  most  experienced  man  on  the  plains,  he 
had  not  an  enemy  on  the  border,  except  among  the 
redskins,  whose  hand  was  against  every  white  man. 
As  wiry  as  steel,  as  keen  as  a  sword  blade :  such  was 
the  youthful  Thomas  Eddie,  soon  to  be  the  hero  of 
many  a  startling  adventure. 

The  trappers  under  Ashley  made  their  way  up  the 
waters  of  the  Missouri  in  keel-boats.  The  muddy 
current  of  the  turbid  stream  raged  furiously  against 
them,  but  by  vigorous  rowing  they  managed  to  thread 
their  way  among  the  numerous  snags  and  sand-bars. 
At  length  they  reached  the  vicinity  of  an  Arickara 
village,  filled  with  several  hundred  savages,  and  here 
they  intended  to  trade,  before  passing  up  the  Yellow 
stone  River,  where  was  splendid  trapping.  They 
rowed  on  with  confidence,  little  suspecting  that  the 
redskins  were  in  a  terrible  state  of  agitation  and  anger 
against  all  of  the  white  men  of  the  West.  In  fact, 
not  many  weeks  before,  an  adventurous  trapper,  who 
had  been  travelling  near  by,  had  caught  the  son  of  the 
head  chief  of  this  nation,  as  he  was  stealing  his  horse. 
He  had  shot  him  down  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  throw 
ing  his  leg  over  his  mount.  The  Arickaras  had  soon 
heard  of  this,  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  white 
man  had  been  perfectly  justified  in  killing  the  horse- 
thief,  determined  to  avenge  the  death  of  their  comrade. 

Ashley  and  his  companions  did  not  know  of  this 
adventure.  Therefore  they  rowed  onward  with  con 
fidence,  and  soon  sighted  the  tepees  of  the  red  men 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  stream. 

"  There  they  are ! "  cried  Eddie,  who  was  in  the 


THOMAS    EDDIE  183 

bow  of  one  of  the  boats.  "  We  will  have  good  trade, 
for  I  know  that  they  are  greatly  in  need  of  arms  and 
of  ammunition/' 

"  Look  out  for  them !  "  spoke  a  fellow  named  Rose, 
in  one  of  the  other  vessels.  "  From  certain  signs  I 
know  that  the  red  vermin  mean  mischief." 

This  fellow  was  a  Kentuckian  who,  for  some  mis 
demeanor,  had  been  outlawed  in  his  own  state  and  had 
then  lived  among  the  Crow  Indians,  who  had  made 
him  a  chief.  Ashley  did  not  like  him  and  believed 
him  to  be  a  villain.  Eddie,  however,  knew  that  he 
spoke  with  keen  knowledge  of  the  redskins.  He, 
therefore,  turned  around  and  cried  loudly: 

"  Ashley,  look  out  for  the  Indians !  They  mean 
mischief !  " 

To  this,  the  head  of  the  expedition  paid  not  the 
slightest  attention.  Instead,  he  pushed  forward,  an 
chored  his  boat  close  in  shore,  near  a  long  strip  of 
small  cottonwood  trees,  and  pulled  out  his  pipe,  smo 
king  it  complacently. 

"  Be  ready  for  an  ambush/'  said  Rose,  "  I  know 
that  the  Arickaras  are  in  an  ugly  mood." 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  answered  Ashley.  "The  red  men 
are  over  anxious  to  trade.  It  has  been  ten  years  since 
they  have  been  on  the  war-path  against  the  whites 
and  I  know  that  they  will  treat  us  well.  Why,  man, 
these  Indians  love  me  like  a  brother." 

Rose  frowned. 

"  I  have  lived  among  these  redskins  for  many 
moons,"  said  he.  "  And  I  know  them  like  a  book. 
Look  out.  They  mean  trouble !  " 


184        FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN 

Ashley  again  pooh-poohed  the  idea,  and  rowed  to 
the  bank,  where  he  deposited  his  articles  of  trade  upon 
several  gaudy  blankets.  The  Arickaras  crowded 
around  him,  crying: 

"  Oh,  pale  faced  brother,  you  have  brought  us  fine 
things.  Oh,  good  brother !  Oh,  kind  brother !  " 

They  showed  feverish  anxiety  to  obtain  guns  and 
ammunition,  saying  that  they  were  soon  going  against 
their  old  enemies,  the  Sioux.  The  trade  went  on, 
many  of  the  trappers  coming  ashore  in  order  to  bet 
ter  bargain  with  the  redskins;  a  few,  however,  re 
maining  in  the  boats.  Ashley  seemed  to  be  well  sat 
isfied  with  the  manner  in  which  everything  was  going. 
He  suspected  nothing  until  one  of  his  men  came  to 
him  and  whispered  in  his  ear : 

"  Three  of  our  trappers  have  secretly  disappeared, 
and  I  fear  that  they  have  been  murdered." 

The  leader  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company 
was  at  last  alarmed.  He  made  preparations  for  de 
fense  and  gathered  his  men  about  him  in  a  hollow 
square.  But  the  Indians,  finding  that  they  no  longer 
could  conceal  their  enmity,  now  set  up  a  loud  whoop 
ing  and  yelling.  A  shot  was  fired.  Another  and 
another  followed  in  quick  succession,  and  the  cotton- 
wood  thickets  swarmed  with  the  savages,  who  poured 
a  rain  of  bullets  at  the  trappers  upon  the  bank  and 
upon  those  in  the  boats. 

"  Drop  to  the  ground,  boys !  "  shouted  Ashley,  "  and 
we  will  fight  for  our  lives." 

A  desperate  encounter  ensued.  Although  sur 
rounded  in  the  rear,  the  trappers  fought  their  way  to 


THOMAS   EDDIE  185 

the  bank,  jumped  into  the  river,  and  attempted  to 
swim  to  their  boats.  Many  were  drowned,  others 
were  killed  by  bullets  as  they  splashed  towards  their 
craft,  but  the  majority  clambered  aboard  in  safety. 

"  Cut  the  ropes,"  shouted  Ashley,  "  and  get  away 
from  here  as  quickly  as  you  are  able !  " 

Under  a  terrific  fire  the  boats  began  to  slowly  drift 
down  the  river.  Oars  were  soon  run  out  and  the 
trappers  were  well  beyond  range  of  the  murderous 
Arickara  rifles.  Of  one  hundred  and  forty-nine  men 
they  had  lost  sixty  killed  and  drowned,  and  scarcely 
one  of  them  did  not  bear  marks  of  bullet  or  arrow 
wounds.  It  had  been  a  desperate  affair.  Had  the 
confident  Ashley  but  listened  to  the  sage  advice  of 
the  Crow  renegade  there  would  have  been  no  such 
slaughter.  Thus  ended  the  famous  stampede  of  the 
Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company,  on  the  ninth  day  of 
March,  1828. 

But  how  about  the  stalwart  young  Eddie?  This 
lucky  plainsman  escaped  with  only  one  arrow  wound 
in  his  forearm.  He  was  heroic  in  the  defense  of  the 
boats,  and,  taking  charge  of  one  of  them,  managed 
to  get  her  safely  to  Council  Bluffs,  where  the  Fur 
Company  retreated  in  good  order.  Poor,  old  trap 
pers!  They  had  met  with  a  warmer  reception  than 
they  had  bargained  for! 

As  luck  would  have  it,  a  Colonel  Leavenworth  was 
then  at  Council  Bluffs  with  a  detachment  of  United 
States  troopers.  Ashley  soon  told  him  his  story,  and 
wound  up  his  sad  tale  with  the  request  that  he  help 
him  to  chastise  the  savages. 


186        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  That  I  will  do  right  willingly/*  answered  the  gal 
lant  soldier.  "  White  Bear,  with  his  band  of  Sioux 
warriors,  will  go  with  me,  I  know.  He  says  that  he 
is  just  itching  for  a  little  brush  with  the  Arickaras. 
He  will  be  of  great  assistance  to  us." 

Eddie  joined  the  detachment  as  it  departed,  and, 
marching  speedily  towards  the  village,  the  soldiers 
and  allied  Sioux  found  the  Arickaras  abandoning  it. 
A  sharp  skirmish  took  place ;  the  soldiers  and  trappers 
fell  upon  the  rear  guard,  and,  routing  it  speedily, 
dashed  among  the  tepees,  which  were  set  on  fire  and 
quickly  consumed.  The  Arickaras  fled  across  the 
prairie.  As  the  skirmish  was  in  progress  White  Bear, 
the  Sioux  leader,  was  the  hero  of  a  desperate  affair, 
which  made  him  always  well  known  among  the  whites, 
and  greatly  respected  by  all  of  the  valiant  men  of  the 
frontier. 

While  the  fight  was  at  its  hottest  this  Sioux  chief 
tain  singled  out  a  giant  Arickara  warrior,  rushed  upon 
him,  tomahawk  in  hand,  and  cried  out : 

"If  you  are  a  man,  halt  and  struggle  with  me.  We 
will  see  which  is  the  better." 

The  Arickara  had  a  bow  in  his  hand,  and,  turning 
upon  the  Bear,  sent  a  shower  of  arrows  whistling 
around  him.  One  of  them  pierced  his  thigh,  but  the 
Sioux  stopped  and  pulled  the  missile  from  the  wound. 
Then,  with  tomahawk  upraised,  he  charged  upon  his 
enemy. 

The  Arickara  chief  had  discharged  his  last  arrow, 
and,  seeing  that  it  was  too  late  to  fly,  wheeled  and 
faced  his  antagonist.  He  was  a  large  and  powerful 


THOMAS   EDDIE  187 

man,  but  the  Sioux  warrior  was  more  agile.  Uttering 
a  loud  and  discordant  yell,  White  Bear  rushed  at  his 
foe.  All  the  other  combatants  stopped  for  a  moment, 
in  order  to  view  this  strange  and  startling  contest. 

The  sun  gleamed  upon  the  tomahawks  of  the  two 
braves  as  they  danced  around  each  other.  Again  and 
again  each  endeavored  to  strike  a  blow,  but,  by  skill 
ful  dodging,  the  weapon  was  evaded,  and  the  warriors 
continued  to  prance  about  in  a  circle.  Suddenly  the 
Sioux  bent  over  and  struck  the  Arickara  warrior  a 
fierce  stroke  upon  the  knee;  so  fierce,  indeed,  that  he 
nearly  severed  his  leg  from  his  body.  White  Bear 
leaped  forward,  dodged  sideways,  and  evaded  the 
descending  tomahawk  of  the  Arickara  chieftain.  The 
latter  tottered  and  then  fell  to  the  ground. 

Before  he  could  recover,  the  Sioux  had  dealt  a 
death-blow,  and,  amidst  the  wild  yelling  and  screech 
ing  of  the  spectators,  deftly  scalped  his  enemy,  hold 
ing  the  top-knot  aloft,  and  himself  uttering  the  wild 
yelp  of  triumph.  "Um-Yah!  Um-Yah!  Uh-Yah!" 

The  Arickaras  were  dispersed  and  well  punished 
for  their  attack  upon  Ashley  and  his  men.  The  troops 
returned  in  triumph  to  Council  Bluffs,  and  Eddie  was 
congratulated  by  the  head  trapper  for  his  part  in  the 
affair. 

"  But  now,  my  boy,"  said  the  veteran  plainsman, 
"  I  want  you  to  go  up  the  Yellowstone,  cross  the 
mountains,  and,  with  fourteen  others,  bring  back  a 
whole  lot  of  peltries." 

"  I'm  your  man,"  said  Eddie.  "  I'm  off  as  soon  as 
you  say  the  word." 


188        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

The  fourteen  trappers  moved  to  the  Yellowstone, 
where  they  hunted  and  trapped  with  great  success, 
until  winter.  Then  they  made  their  way  to  the  village 
of  some  friendly  Crows.  They  were  treated  with 
kindness  and  hospitality,  and  had  great  good  luck  in 
procuring  beaver  peltries.  When  spring  came  they 
travelled  towards  the  Rocky  Mountains,  after  making 
appropriate  speeches  of  friendship  to  their  hosts,  and 
giving  them  many  presents. 

In  the  mountains  their  old  enemies  —  the  Black- 
feet  —  were  very  mischievous.  They  often  stole  their 
traps,  attempted  to  stampede  their  ponies,  and  fired 
at  them  from  ambush.  Nearly  every  night  the  alarm 
would  sound :  "  Indians !  Indians !  Look  to  your 
horses !  "  And,  during  the  day,  the  Blackfoot  senti 
nels  could  be  seen  upon  the  skyline,  perched  upon  the 
summit  of  some  high  hill.  They  would  signal  to  their 
friends  in  the  valleys  below  and  tell  them  of  the  prog 
ress  of  the  trappers.  The  pioneers  were  repeatedly 
ambushed,  but  they  marched  valiantly  on,  fighting  as 
they  went.  At  last  they  left  the  mountains,  pressed 
onward  towards  the  Pacific  slope,  and,  almost  perish 
ing  from  hunger,  were  rescued  by  some  trappers  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  who  took  them  to  their 
post  on  the  Columbia  River.  They  spent  the  winter 
in  this  place. 

When  spring  approached,  the  pioneers  again  set  out 
for  the  Yellowstone.  As  they  approached  the  Bear 
River,  an  Indian  runner  came  bounding  down  the  trail. 
He  was  of  the  Snake  tribe  and  held  up  his  right  hand 
in  token  of  friendship. 


THOMAS   EDDIE  189 

"  I  come  from  the  people  of  the  great  chief,  Pirn/' 
said  he.  "  The  Great  Spirit  has  taken  our  beloved 
ruler  to  the  land  of  the  hereafter.  It  is  requested  by 
his  people  that  our  white  brothers  read  over  him  their 
medicine  book  (the  Bible)  and  sing  one  of  their  songs. 
Then  lay  our  great  chief  to  rest  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Bear  River.  Here  he  can  ever  hear  the  wonderful 
music  of  the  stream,  and  here  his  spirit  can  make  the 
beaver  plenty  for  our  white  brothers." 

It  was  a  strange  request. 

"  Boys,"  said  Thomas  Eddie,  "  we  will  do  as  our 
red  brother  wishes.  We  will  bury  our  good  friend 
Pirn  in  a  Christian  manner,  for  he  was  always  kindly 
disposed  to  all  the  trappers  and  pioneers  who  came 
in  contact  with  him." 

Turning  back  upon  their  trail,  the  trappers  travelled 
forty  miles  to  the  camp  of  the  Snakes.  In  relays  of 
four,  they  carried  the  dead  chieftain  slowly  and  ten 
derly  to  the  banks  of  the  roaring  Bear  River,  and 
there  laid  him  to  rest,  reading  over  him  the  burial 
service  and  singing  a  hymn.  A  volley  was  fired  over 
the  open  grave,  then,  turning  sadly  towards  the  moun 
tains,  the  men  in  buckskin  left  the  red  men  to  perform 
their  own  last  rites  over  the  dead  chieftain. 

As  they  neared  the  hills,  the  pugnacious  Black- 
feet  again  began  to  harass  them.  Every  day  they 
made  an  attack,  but  as  they  were  principally  armed 
with  arrows  they  did  little  damage.  A  few  had  rifles, 
but  they  rarely  used  them.  When  the  trappers  had 
been  fighting  with  these  fellows,  the  year  before,  num 
bers  of  them  had  fallen  beneath  the  steady  aim  of  the 


190        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

whites,  but  not  a  single  trapper  had  been  killed  or 
even  dangerously  wounded.  This  shows  you  what 
poor  marksmen  the  Indians  were. 

Not  long  afterwards  the  little  band  of  adventurers 
was  passing  through  a  narrow  and  lonely  valley.  As 
they  reached  a  passage-way  through  high  and  precipi 
tous  cliffs,  a  shot  rang  out,  and  a  wild  Indian  yell  told 
them  the  Blackfeet  were  again  on  their  trail. 

"  We're  ambushed,  boys !  "  cried  Eddie.  "  Take  to 
cover  and  ward  off  these  skulkers,  for  from  the  sound 
of  their  fire  it  is  apparent  that  they  have  plenty  of 
guns  and  ammunition/' 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  he  uttered  a  sharp 
cry  of  pain,  for  a  rifle  ball  struck  him  in  the  thigh 
and  penetrated  well  into  his  flesh.  It  was  cut  out  by 
a  trapper  called  Will  Sublette,  with  a  beaver  knife, 
but  our  hero  was  in  a  serious  condition  for  some  time 
thereafter.  Fortunately  the  members  of  the  party 
were  near  water,  so  they  threw  up  a  rough  barricade, 
by  means  of  digging  with  their  hunting-knives,  and 
adding  brush  and  tree  trunks  to  the  fortification.  Sev 
eral  were  unable  to  proceed,  five  had  been  killed,  and 
twenty  were  severely  wounded. 

The  Blackfeet  could  be  easily  seen  as  they  circled 
about,  some  on  foot,  some  on  their  ponies.  They 
continuously  yelped,  howled  like  coyotes,  and  kept  up 
a  fusillade  against  the  earth  and  brush  fortification. 
Fortune  favored  the  trappers,  however,  as  there  was 
an  abundance  of  beaver  in  the  stream  which  ran 
through  the  valley  and  these  were  easily  captured. 
Trout  were  also  plentiful  and  the  wanderers  managed 


THOMAS   EDDIE  191 

to  put  up  a  fortification  behind  which  they  could  catch 
the  speckled  beauties  without  molestation  by  the 
painted  and  bloodthirsty  Blackfeet.  The  wounded 
made  a  rapid  recovery,  and  in  ten  days  were  able  to 
travel. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  Eddie,  at  this  time,  "  it  is  im 
portant  that  we  get  away.  Let  us  take  our  old  clothes, 
stuff  them  with  grass  in  order  to  deceive  the  red  men, 
and  light  our  camp-fires  as  usual.  The  Blackfeet  will 
see  the  dark  bodies  near  the  flames  and  will  not  sus 
pect  that  we  have  gotten  away.  We  will  move  off 
towards  the  North,  but  you  must  make  no  noise." 

The  trappers  were  eager  to  be  off.  That  night  they 
lighted  their  fires,  placed  the  dummy  figures  so  that 
they  could  be  readily  seen,  and  crept  away  from  their 
little  fortification.  The  Blackfeet  did  not  suspect  this 
departure,  and,  although  it  was  a  hazardous  march 
over  a  rough  path,  allowed  the  men  under  Eddie  to 
get  safely  away.  By  forced  marches,  and  travelling 
over  a  crooked  trail,  the  pioneers  at  length  reached 
the  Yellowstone.  But  their  troubles  were  not  yet  at 
an  end. 

Trapper  Eddie  had  left  camp  one  day  in  order  to 
look  for  game,  and  was  returning  to  the  place  where 
the  horses  were  tethered,  when  he  saw  a  small  band 
of  Crow  Indians  who  were  endeavoring  to  drive  off 
the  stock.  Firing  at  the  leader  of  the  expedition  he 
knocked  him  to  the  ground.  One  of  the  braves 
jumped  to  the  earth,  lifted  the  dead  chieftain  upon 
his  horse,  and  rode  off  with  him.  Eddie's  comrades 
heard  the  shooting  and  galloped  to  meet  their  leader. 


192        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Eddie  knew  the  valley  well.  It  doubled  almost  upon 
itself,  making  a  horse-shoe  curve,  and  he  was  aware 
that  should  he  ascend  the  mountain  on  the  right  he 
would  be  able  to  head  off  the  redskins. 

"  Boys !  "  cried  he.  "  Follow  me  over  that  moun 
tain.  We  will  meet  the  red  men,  recapture  our 
bronchos,  and  pay  them  well  for  their  dastardly  at 
tempt  to  run  off  our  steeds." 

His  men  gave  a  cheer,  and,  putting  spurs  to  their 
horses,  galloped  up  the  steep  slope  of  the  moun 
tain.  Sure  enough,  as  they  reached  the  top,  there 
were  the  redskins  just  below  them.  Uttering  a 
wild  cow-boy  yell,  the  trappers  dashed  to  the 
assault. 

A  narrow  pass  in  the  mountains  lay  before  them 
and  for  this  the  Indians  hastened,  yelping  fiercely  as 
they  went.  The  trappers  were  as  experienced  men 
at  shooting  on  horseback  as  Buffalo  Bill,  and  they 
soon  dropped  most  of  the  Crows  as  they  vainly  en 
deavored  to  escape.  The  fellow  who  was  carrying 
the  leader  was  badly  wounded,  and  as  he  endeavored 
to  ride  his  heavily  burdened  horse  across  a  stream, 
which  flowed  through  the  valley,  the  animal  stumbled 
and  fell,  throwing  both  the  live  and  the  dead  man 
into  the  water.  The  trappers  were  close  upon  them 
as  they  went  down,  but  what  became  of  the  dead 
chieftain  and  his  attendant  was  never  known.  They 
disappeared  from  view.  Whether  the  live  Crow  was 
killed  by  the  fall,  or  was  stunned  and  perished  in  the 
swift  current,  is  still  a  question.  Perhaps  he  made 
his  way  back  to  his  own  tribe.  At  any  rate,  a  careful 


THOMAS    EDDIE  193 

search  failed  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  either  of 
them. 

"By  George!"  cried  "Old  Bill"  Williams,  who 
was  one  of  Eddie's  party,  "  I  reckon  that  the  dead 
one  has  carried  the  live  fellow  to  Heaven  with  him." 

The  horses  were  soon  re-taken,  and  with  smiles 
of  satisfaction  upon  their  faces  the  trappers  returned 
to  their  camp  on  the  Yellowstone.  Here,  seated 
around  the  blazing  camp-fire,  they  again  fought  over 
their  battles,  compared  notes  of  the  country,  made 
rude  maps  of  their  routes,  with  the  various  rivers, 
mountains,  and  plains;  and  those  who  had  seen  the 
waters  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  told  their  comrades  of 
this  vast  inland  sea,  whose  waters  were  bitterly  salt, 
and  into  whose  depths  nothing  could  sink  because  of 
the  great  buoyancy  of  the  waves. 

There  was  an  abundance  of  game  in  the  Yellow 
stone  country.  The  fourteen  scouts  spent  the  entire 
season,  and  part  of  the  next,  in  trapping  for  mink, 
beaver,  otter,  and  bear.  They  set  their  beaver  traps 
in  all  the  suitable  streams  between  the  head  of  the 
Missouri  River  and  the  upper  waters  of  the  Platte, 
meeting  with  great  success.  Indians  were  plentiful, 
but  seemed  to  leave  them  alone,  for  they  had  undoubt 
edly  heard  of  the  summary  vengeance  which  the  trap 
pers  had  taken  upon  the  thieving  Crows. 

"  Boys,"  said  Eddie,  one  day,  "  we  are  about  all 
through  with  our  ammunition  and  I  would  like  to 
send  seven  of  our  number  to  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico, 
in  order  to  get  a  supply.  Who  will  be  willing  to 
undertake  the  trip?" 


194        FAMOUS   FRONTIEESMEN 

"  I  will,"  came  from  the  throats  of  many,  and  it 
was  plainly  evident  that  there  would  be  little  difficulty 
in  getting  volunteers  for  this  hazardous  duty. 

Seven  were  chosen  for  the  journey  —  seven  of  the 
strongest  and  most  hardy  —  but  the  seven  were  never 
seen  again.  Cheerfully  they  set  out  across  the  sandy 
plains  of  Colorado.  When  they  were  just  about  to 
disappear  from  view,  they  turned  and  waved  their 
hands  to  those  left  behind. 

"  So  long,  boys,"  cried  one.  "  We  will  meet  again 
in  a  few  months." 

But  they  never  met  again.  From  the  time  that  they 
disappeared  upon  the  horizon  all  trace  of  them  was 
lost.  Perhaps  they  fell  before  the  arrows  and  bullets 
of  the  Sioux,  Kiowa,  Apache,  Comanche,  Navajo,  or 
other  red  men.  Perhaps  the  lounging  and  lazy  Span 
ish  banditti  captured  them  and  carried  them  across 
the  Mexican  line.  At  any  rate,  their  fate  is  enveloped 
in  impenetrable  mystery. 

Eddie  and  his  companions  waited  for  many  months 
for  some  sign  of  their  comrades.  At  length  they  gave 
up  hopes  of  their  return,  and  leaving  a  note  to  direct 
them  where  to  go  should  they  ever  come  back,  made 
their  way  to  the  Yellowstone.  Hostile  red  men  hov 
ered  about  them  and  endeavored  to  cut  off  their  ponies, 
but  these  were  dispersed  in  several  smart  skirmishes. 
Finally  they  reached  a  camp  some  forty  miles  above 
Boulder,  Colorado,  where  Eddie  and  Bill  Gordon  had 
a  rather  serious  encounter  with  some  Arapahoes,  when 
returning  from  an  antelope  hunt. 

"  By  gracious ! "  cried  Bill,  the  trapper,  as  he  saw 


THOMAS   EDDIE  195 

the  redskins  swooping  down  upon  them.  "  I  believe 
that  we  are  about  to  lose  our  scalps,  Eddie.  '  Never 
say  die'  must  be  our  motto." 

"  Let's  break  for  that  canyon,"  answered  the  lion- 
hearted  Eddie.  "If  we  get  into  those  rocks  the  yelp 
ing  redskins  can  shoot  all  they  want  to  but  they  can't 
hurt  us.  We'll  crawl  over  there  by  the  water  so  that 
they  cannot  starve  us  out.  We  have  food  enough  to 
last  us  for  some  time." 

Crack!  Crack!  sounded  the  rifles  of  the  red  men, 
and  both  Eddie  and  Gordon  were  struck.  Nothing 
daunted,  they  ran  to  the  shelter  of  the  ravine,  where 
they  returned  the  fire  with  so  much  accuracy  that 
two  of  the  redskins  fell  to  the  ground.  The  Indians 
numbered  about  twelve,  but  only  five  were  detached  to 
follow  the  two  scouts,  while  the  rest  rode  away,  car 
rying  the  two  dead  men  with  them.  As  they  went  in 
the  direction  of  the  camp  of  the  plainsmen  Eddie 
feared  that  they  would  surprise  his  comrades  and 
would  annihilate  them. 

"  Gordon,"  said  he,  "  you  must  remain  here,  while 
I  run  back  to  camp  and  warn  our  companions  of  the 
approach  of  these  murderers.  You  have  only  five  to 
deal  with,  and  I  know  that  you  can  handle  them." 

Eddie  ran  swiftly  up  the  canyon,  and  then,  back 
tracking,  hid  himself  behind  a  huge  boulder.  The 
redskins  saw  him  and  made  after  his  retreating  form 
with  great  speed,  but  failed  to  see  him  in  his  hiding- 
place.  They  were  soon  out  of  sight. 

The  scout  darted  down  the  canyon  as  rapidly  as 
possible  and  dashed  out  upon  the  open  prairie  as  hard 


196        FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

as  he  could  go.  Before  him  was  an  Arapaho  who 
was  watching  the  Indian  ponies.  He  was  mounted 
upon  a  buckskin  pinto  and  was  armed  with  a  rifle, 
tomahawk,  and  knife.  As  Eddie  approached,  he 
raised  his  rifle.  The  scout  did  likewise  and  both  fired 
at  about  the  same  moment. 

The  trapper  was  struck  in  the  shoulder,  but  the 
injury  was  not  severe,  while  his  own  ball  passed 
through  the  red  man's  thigh,  breaking  the  leg  of  the 
horse  upon  which  he  was  riding.  This  brought  him 
to  the  earth  and  pinned  the  warrior  beneath  him,  but 
the  savage  frantically  struggled  to  escape,  and,  as 
the  white  man  approached,  drew  his  knife.  His  toma 
hawk  had  dropped  some  distance  away  as  he  fell. 

Now  was  a  thrilling  encounter.  Notwithstanding 
the  pain  in  his  wound  and  his  weakness  from  loss  of 
blood,  the  Indian  made  a  desperate  fight.  He  hoped, 
no  doubt,  that  the  shots  which  both  he  and  his  antag 
onist  had  fired  would  bring  his  companions  to  his 
assistance.  No  such  luck  was  in  store  for  him.  Eddie 
was  a  small  and  wiry  man,  while  the  Arapaho  was  a 
veritable  giant  in  stature.  The  scout  was  armed  with 
a  tomahawk  and  endeavored  to  get  in  a  thrust,  but 
with  ill  success,  for  the  redskin  parried  his  every 
attempt.  Just  as  Eddie  had  succeeded  in  making  a 
sweeping  blow,  which,  had  it  reached  the  red  man, 
would  have  cut  him  down,  the  savage  caught  his  arm, 
and  the  tomahawk  flew  from  his  grasp.  The  Indian's 
knife  was  in  his  left  hand  and  the  scout  made  a  des 
perate  lunge  in  order  to  seize  it. 

It  was  a  hazardous  moment   for  Thomas  Eddie. 


THOMAS    EDDIE  197 

As  he  struggled  for  the  possession  of  the  coveted 
knife  he  saw  four  Arapahoes  emerge  from  the  mouth 
of  the  canyon  and  dash  towards  them.  It  was  touch 
and  go  with  the  famous  man  of  the  frontier.  The 
savage  made  a  thrust  at  this  moment.  Eddie  caught 
the  blade  in  his  right  hand,  but  the  knife  cut  him 
through  and  through,  inflicting  a  desperate  and  gaping 
wound.  In  spite  of  the  pain  it  caused  him,  the  trap 
per  held  on.  With  his  other  hand  he  seized  the  Arap- 
aho  by  the  throat  and  pushed  him  to  the  earth. 

A  new  complication  arose.  A  shot  rang  out  from 
the  mouth  of  the  canyon  and  the  foremost  Indian  fell 
to  the  ground.  The  other  three  halted  and  faced  the 
new  enemy,  while  the  big  fellow  with  whom  he  was 
struggling  turned  his  head  for  a  moment,  in  order  to 
see  who  was  approaching.  On  the  short  moment  hung 
his  life,  for  Eddie  wrested  the  long  knife  from  him, 
and,  as  he  looked  around,  buried  the  blade  in  his  side. 
The  Arapaho  fell  to  the  ground,  with  a  long,  gasping 
cry.  The  three  savages,  who  were  approaching,  were 
now  about  fifty  yards  away  and  they  fired  upon  the 
victorious  scout,  but  did  not  hit  him.  Instead  of  this 
they  wounded  another  one  of  their  horses. 

Hurrah  for  Eddie!  He  had  certainly  done  well, 
and  was  in  the  same  class  with  Adam  Poe,  who,  if 
you  remember,  had  such  a  desperate  battle  with  Big 
Foot,  the  celebrated  Shawnee  warrior  and  athlete.1 
The  nervy  fellow  was  not  to  be  caught  napping. 
Dashing  to  the  nearest  pony,  he  set  off  at  full  speed 
for  the  mouth  of  the  canyon,  circling  as  he  did  so, 

1  See  "  Famous  Scouts." 


198        FAMOUS   FKONTIEESMEN 

in  order  to  avoid  the  three  savages.  To  his  surprise, 
he  met  Bill  Gordon,  who  told  him  that  from  the  top 
of  a  low  mountain  he  had  seen  the  Arapahoes  engaged 
in  a  battle  with  a  band  of  Crows,  way  off  upon  the 
plain,  and  that  therefore  he  had  returned  to  his  assist 
ance,  as  he  knew  that  their  companions  in  camp  would 
not  be  molested. 

"  Well,  let's  finish  up  these  Arapahoes,"  cried  Eddie. 
"  And  punish  them  for  their  interference  with  honest 
men.  Are  you  with  me,  Bill?" 

Old  Bill  uttered  a  wild  yell. 

"Of  course  I'm  with  you,  son,"  said  he.  "Lay 
on !  Lay  on !  " 

Spurring  their  mustangs,  the  two  scouts  dashed 
madly  after  the  fleeing  redskins.  They  caught  up 
with  them,  and  by  excellent  shooting  succeeded  in 
killing  them  all.  At  once  they  returned  to  their  own 
camp  with  the  arms  and  ponies  of  the  savages,  and, 
upon  narrating  their  adventures  to  the  other  scouts, 
it  was  decided  to  move  as  rapidly  as  possible  from 
such  a  dangerous  locality.  Turning  towards  the  tur 
bid  waters  of  the  Yellowstone,  they  soon  reached  this 
wonderful  stream,  where  no  other  bands  of  Indians 
molested  them.  Their  battles  were  over. 

Upon  their  return  to  the  settlement  at  Council 
Bluffs  all  welcomed  them  uproariously,  for  many 
thought  that  the  nervy  fellows  had  perished  in  the 
wilderness.  Their  furs  and  peltries  netted  them  a 
snug  figure;  so  snug,  in  fact,  that  plainsman  Eddie 
purchased  a  tavern  of  his  own  called  the  Green  Tree. 
Here  he  dispensed  a  lavish  hospitality  and  here  he 


THOMAS   EDDIE  199 

brought  his  bride  in  1833.  She  was  a  Miss  Clarke, 
a  reigning  belle  of  St.  Louis,  and,  although  the  mother 
of  eleven  sturdy  children  (five  boys  and  six  girls) 
always  remained  a  woman  of  remarkable  beauty. 
Many  were  the  tales  which  the  trapper  used  to  tell 
his  children  of  his  early  experiences  on  the  plains, 
and,  although  the  frost  of  old  age  gradually  touched 
his  auburn  hair  with  snow,  the  fire  and  imagination 
of  youth  always  kept  the  spirit  of  the  old  pioneer  as 
fresh  as  when,  as  a  young  man,  he  made  that  danger 
ous  trip  to  the  wild  region  of  the  West  as  a  member 
of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company.  Thus  in  peace 
and  comfort  passed  the  declining  years  of  the  last  of 
the  trappers  of  the  Great  Frontier. 


JIM    BRIDGER: 

FOUNDER  OF  BRIDGER,  WYOMING,  AND 
FAMOUS    INDIAN    FIGHTER 

IN  the  lower  corner  of  the  mighty  state  of  Wyo 
ming  is  a  town  named  after  one  of  the  most 
noted  of  the  trappers  of  the  West  —  Jim 
Bridger  —  who  not  only  fought  Indians  but  also 
traded  and  trapped  in  many  an  unexplored  portion  of 
the  once  unknown  regions  near  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Fort  Bridger  —  a  strong  stockade  near  by  —  received 
its  name  from  this  famous  plainsman,  who  hailed 
from  Illinois,  and  who  was  not  only  of  humble,  but 
also  of  somewhat  unrespectable  parentage.  Young 
Jim  ran  away,  when  quite  young,  in  order  to  escape 
the  hard  usage  which  was  his  lot  at  home.  On  the 
border  he  soon  made  his  mark,  for  he  was  not  only 
a  great  rifle  shot  but  also  a  man  of  unusual  strength 
and  agility. 

One  day  the  scout  was  in  a  block-house,  with  a 
number  of  other  frontiersmen  who  had  recently  been 
attacked  by  a  band  of  Blackfoot  warriors.  These 
were  encamped  at  no  great  distance,  and  a  truce  had 
been  declared  whereby  neither  side  should  molest  the 
other.  Jim  Bridger  wandered  into  the  camp  of  the 
red  men,  and  walked  down  the  main  street,  looking, 

200 


Courtesy  of  the  Century  Company. 

JIM    BRIDGER. 


JIM    BRIDGER  201 

with  an  interested  eye,  at  their  tepees,  their  squaws, 
and  the  little  papooses. 

"  Ugh !  Ugh !  "  grunted  some  young  bucks.  "  Pale 
face  he  look  like  pig.  Ugh !  Ugh !  He  no  fight.  He 
run  away." 

Bridger  grew  crimson,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Paleface  waddle  like  duck,"  continued  one  of  the 
Blackfeet.  "  Paleface  have  nose  like  black  dog." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  usually  calm  and  col 
lected  Jim  Bridger.  Spinning  upon  his  heel  he  rushed 
up  to  the  nearest  redskin,  hit  him  a  blow  between  the 
eyes  and  sent  him  reeling  to  the  ground.  Immediately 
the  whole  camp  was  in  an  uproar.  The  trapper  was 
surrounded  by  a  yelling,  screeching  mob  of  savages  — 
was  made  a  prisoner  —  and  was  carried,  struggling, 
to  a  lodge  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  Then  the 
Indians  gathered  in  a  dense  throng  in  order  to  decide 
upon  the  fate  of  their  captive. 

There  was  much  discussion  as  to  what  was  to  be 
done  with  the  scout.  Some  were  for  a  light  punish 
ment,  as  the  trappers  in  the  block-house  were  numer 
ous,  and  their  rifles  were  accurate  shooters  when  held 
by  the  steady  hands  of  the  frontiersmen.  "  No  I 
No .!  "  shouted  many  others.  "  He  should  be  carried 
to  the  mountains  and  there  tortured.  He  has  struck 
one  of  our  braves.  The  paleface  must  suffer  death !  " 

Three  older  chiefs  listened  to  all  of  this  wild  talk 
and  then  gave  their  decision. 

'  The  Paleface  shall  suffer  death  and  torture!  Let 
some  of  the  young  men  go  to  his  lodge  and  bring 
him  to  us." 


202        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

With  a  wild  whoop,  a  number  of  the  youthful  war 
riors  rushed  to  the  tepee  in  which  they  had  shoved 
the  trapper,  stoutly  bound  with  deer  thongs.  As  they 
threw  open  the  flap  which  hung  over  the  doorway 
surprise  and  dismay  marked  their  features,  for  the 
bird  had  flown.  All  were  chagrined  and  angered  at 
the  loss  of  their  quarry.  Whooping  savagely,  they 
dashed  back  to  their  companions,  many  of  whom 
favored  an  immediate  attack  upon  the  block-house; 
but  the  counsel  of  the  older  chiefs  prevailed. 

"  The  paleface  warriors  have  sticks  which  shoot 
very  straight,"  said  they.  "  We  must  go  away,  or 
they  may  attack  us." 

Packing  up  their  goods,  and  loading  their  travois, 
they  fled  to  the  mountains. 

But  how  had  the  daring  plainsman  escaped  ?  Hush ! 
It  was  a  dusky-hued  maiden  who  had  set  him  free, 
and  love  will  always  find  a  way. 

Jim  Bridger,  in  fact,  had  met  a  young  Indian  girl 
in  the  village  who  had  returned  the  sudden  affection 
of  the  young  trapper  with  much  interest.  With  sad 
ness  and  dismay  she  watched  his  capture,  and,  when 
she  saw  him  thrown  into  the  lodge,  at  first  she  deter 
mined  to  run  to  the  block-house  in  order  to  notify  his 
comrades  of  his  predicament.  She  knew  that  they 
would  then  demand  his  release,  but,  fearing  an  attack 
in  which  some  of  her  relatives  would  be  killed  and 
her  lover  would  be  doubtless  assassinated,  she  decided 
to  say  nothing  to  the  trappers.  Instead,  she  deter 
mined  to  set  him  free  by  her  own  hand.  While  the 
savages  wrangled  over  what  was  to  be  his  fate  she 


JIM   BRIDGES  203 

determined  to  creep  to  his  tent,  cut  the  deer  thongs, 
and  point  out  the  way  to  freedom. 

Two  sentinels  watched  the  lodge  where  Jim  Bridger 
lay,  and,  as  the  Indian  maid  approached,  one  of  them 
moved  towards  her.  She  stooped  almost  to  the  earth, 
darted  behind  a  neighboring  tepee,  and  crept  stealthily 
towards  the  rear  of  the  tent.  As  luck  would  have  it, 
there  was  no  sentinel  at  this  point,  and  she  cut  a  long 
slit  in  the  buffalo-skin  curtain.  Bridger  was  lying 
upon  a  robe  endeavoring  to  snap  his  bonds,  and  as  he 
saw  her  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  At  this, 
the  girl  clapped  one  hand  over  his  mouth.  With  the 
other  she  cut  the  raw-hide  thongs,  and  beckoned  to 
him  to  follow  her. 

The  scout  wormed  his  way  out  of  the  side  of  the 
tent,  crept  upon  all  fours  to  a  safe  distance,  then  rose 
and  faced  the  Indian  maiden. 

"  Dearest,"  said  he,  "  you  have  saved  my  life,  and 
Jim  Bridger  never  forgets  the  kindness  of  such  a  one 
as  you.  You  shall  be  my  wife." 

The  Blackfoot  maiden  blushed,  and  answered  that 
whether  there  was  peace  or  war  between  her  people 
and  his,  she  would  meet  him  in  a  certain  grove  of 
pine  trees,  at  the  base  of  a  distant  mountain  peak, 
after  two  full  moons.  She  counselled  him  how  to 
avoid  the  sentinels,  how  to  elude  any  pursuers  by 
darting  through  a  certain  canyon,  and  then,  as  he 
pressed  her  to  his  heart,  their  lips  met.  A  moment 
more  and  she  had  torn  herself  away,  and  had  van 
ished  down  the  steep  cliffs  upon  which  they  had  clam 
bered. 


204        FAMOUS   FRONTIEESMEN 

The  scout  did  not  tell  his  comrades  how  he  had 
escaped,  for  he  feared  that  they  would  laugh  at  him. 
And  as  the  days  passed  by  his  brother  trappers  noticed 
that  he  was  cutting  notches  in  a  stick  in  order  to  mark 
the  time  elapsing  before  some  important  event.  At 
length  the  stick  was  almost  filled  with  little  triangular 
marks,  and  Bridger,  saddling  his  horse,  led  another  by 
a  long  lariat,  and  set  off  for  a  certain  towering  peak 
in  the  mountains.  His  companions  little  guessed 
what  was  his  real  destination.  Five  days  elapsed  be 
fore  they  again  laid  eyes  upon  him,  but  all  were  start 
led  and  much  surprised  to  see  him  ride  into  the  camp, 
one  brilliant  morning,  with  a  dusky,  Indian  maiden 
by  his  side.  A  broad  smile  was  upon  his  face,  while 
the  bride  looked  radiantly  happy.  As  they  rode  up, 
the  joyous  trappers  gave  three  times  three  for  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Jim  Bridger. 

From  now  on  the  pioneer  had  an  adventurous 
career,  and,  although  away  from  his  home  for  months 
at  a  time,  was  always  devoted  to  his  Blackfoot  bride, 
although  he  often  had  passages  at  arms  with  her 
kinsmen.  Not  long  after  his  marriage  he  was  in  the 
Medicine  Bow  Mountains,  with  a  party  of  trappers, 
when  they  were  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  the  Black- 
feet.  Crying  to  them  to  surrender,  the  savage  war 
riors  circled  about  upon  their  ponies,  screeching  like 
so  many  devils,  for  they  were  sure  that  they  had  the 
white  men  cornered.  It  looked  dark  for  the  adven 
turous  trappers. 

"  We  must  fight  desperately,  men,"  cried  out  the 
gallant  Jim.  "  And  must  make  our  way  towards  the 


JIM   BEIDGER  205 

mountains  near  the  Yellowstone.  There  we  can  stand 
these  pesky  varmints  off  from  behind  the  boulders. 
But  now  we  must  break  through  their  circle.  Are  you 
all  ready?  Then  —  come  on/' 

The  trappers  cheered  as  Bridger  led  a  charge 
against  the  wild  riders  of  the  plains,  who  scattered 
before  the  resolute  attack.  By  alternately  fighting 
and  retreating,  the  frontiersmen  gradually  made  their 
way  towards  the  distant  hills,  and  —  although  a  few 
were  badly  wounded  —  at  length  they  reached  the 
protection  of  some  giant  boulders  which  afforded 
them  excellent  protection  against  the  bullets  and  ar 
rows  of  the  red  men.  Seeing  that  it  was  now  impos 
sible  to  get  them,  the  savages  fired  a  parting  volley 
and  retired.  The  last  shot  proved  to  be  an  unlucky 
one  for  Jim  Bridger's  best  friend  —  a  man  named 
Milton  Sublette  —  as  a  ball  from  an  Indian  rifle  struck 
him  in  the  ankle  and  tore  through  both  flesh  and  bone. 

Stanching  the  flow  of  blood  as  best  they  could,  the 
trappers  carried  their  wounded  companion  away  with 
them  upon  a  Mackinaw  blanket,  slung  between  two  of 
the  pack-animals.  His  leg  was  amputated  with  the  aid 
of  a  beaver  knife  hacked  into  a  saw,  and  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  they  possessed  no  chloroform,  ether,  or 
other  anesthetic,  the  patient  bore  everything  with  sto 
ical  indifference.  His  life  was  saved,  and  —  strange 
as  it  may  seem  —  upon  his  arrival  at  Saint  Louis  he 
submitted  to  a  second  operation  in  order  to  obtain  a 
better-looking  stump,  and  was  back  again  in  his  old 
haunts  within  six  months:  trapping,  fishing,  and 
travelling  with  as  much  joy  in  living  as  before.  Such 


206        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

was  the  spirit  and  energy  of  these  old  men  of  the 
mountains. 

Bridger  was  later  engaged  in  piloting  emigrant 
trains  across  the  prairie,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Repub 
lican  River,  where  Sandy  Forsyth  had  his  great  battle 
with  Roman  Nose  some  years  later.  With  him  was 
a  scout  called  Jim  Beckwith,  who  has  left  the  follow 
ing  account  of  a  tight,  little  brush  which  was  indulged 
in  by  two  bands  of  Sioux  and  Pawnee  warriors,  just 
after  the  trappers  had  driven  away  a  force  of  about 
fifty  Pawnees  who  had  attempted  to  run  off  their 
horses. 

"  I  seen  that  the  Pawnees  would  soon  be  after  us 
again,"  said  the  gallant  Beckwith,  "  and  I  knowed  that 
the  Sioux  would  do  the  same  thing.  So  I  saw  that 
we'd  have  about  a  thousand  redskins  after  us,  and 
we  wouldn't  be  a  taste  for  them.  I  seen  that  this 
wouldn't  do,  so  I  says  to  Jim  Bridger,  says  I,  *  Jim, 
what  are  we  goin'  ter  do  ? '  '  Give  it  up,'  said  Jim, 
says  he,  '  Fight  till  the  reds  down  us,  I  reckon,  and 
then  turn  up  our  toes  like  men.'  All  this  time  —  bless 
your  soul  —  them  pilgrims  what  we  wuz  a-guidin', 
wuz  in  the  wagons  cryin'.  It  wuz  awful. 

"  Wall,  I  jest  made  up  my  mind,  sir,  that  I  didn't 
intend  tew  give  my  heart  tew  no  Injun  jest  then,  so 
I  callates  about  whar  th'  two  parties  of  red  devils 
would  meet.  When  we  got  thar,  we  drove  over  a 
raise  in  th'  plain  and  jes'  waited  fur  'em.  In  about 
two  hours  I  seen  th'  dust  raisin'  in  th'  East  in  er  gret, 
big  cloud.  '  Them's  Pawnees/  says  I,  '  by  th'  tarnal 
prophet.'  Then  I  looked  intew  th'  West,  and  thar  th' 


JIM   BRIDGER  207 

dust  wuz  raisin',  too.  '  Them's  Sioux/  says  I,  '  an'  th' 
Devil  take  'em.  I  hev  seen  pleasanter  sights.'  Wall, 
after  waitin'  some  time  th'  Injuns  seen  each  other,  an' 
of  all  th'  cussed  yellin'  you  ever  heard,  it  wuz  thar. 
I  jes'  laid  back  an'  laughed,  while  Bridger  done  some 
tall  chucklin'  too,  when  them  two  bands  got  together. 
It  was  lively  times,  yew  bet. 

"  Th'  Injuns  didn't  have  many  guns  in  them  days, 
but  you  kin  jest  rest  assured  that  they  used  their  ar 
rers  fur  what  wuz  in  'em.  Thar  they  went  circlin' 
aroun'  each  other,  bendin'  under  their  bosses'  necks, 
an'  lettin'  th'  arrers  fly.  At  one  time  th'  air  wuz  near 
so  full  uv  arrers  thet  it  made  a  cloud,  shettin'  out  th' 
sun.  Their  ponies  got  stuck  full  uv  'em.  Their  dogs 
wuz  full  uv  'em,  an'  every  Injun  in  th'  gang  had  er 
lot  uv  'em  stickin'  inter  him.  I  seed  a  big,  fat  feller 
ridin'  off  with  two  uv  'em  stickin'  into  th'  seat  uv  his 
buckskins,  an'  it  reminded  me  so  uv  er  big  pincushion, 
thet  I  near  died  uv  laughin'.  Then  they  begun  tew 
run.  They  run  this  way,  an'  they  run  that,  and  —  by 
Gravy  —  I  believe  thet  some  uv  them  Injuns  be  still 
runnin'  from  one  another.  By  Gum,  they  wuz  so  busy 
fightin'  each  other,  thet  they  left  us  plum  alone." 

This  was  certainly  a  laughable  incident,  but  a  bit 
later  occurred  another  episode  which  was  not  quite 
so  amusing  for  the  daring  and  adventurous  Jim 
Bridger. 

About  six  months  after  the  fight  upon  the  Republi 
can,  with  five  companions,  the  trapper  was  travelling 
near  the  Platte  River.  The  plainsmen  were  in  search 
of  buffalo  and  had  seen  a  fair  sized  herd  when  a  band 


208        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

of  Sioux  Indians  appeared  upon  one  of  the  rolling 
bluffs.  The  trappers  sought  cover,  for  they  expected 
an  attack,  and  they  were  not  far  from  being  wrong, 
for  the  red  men  immediately  made  after  them ;  circled 
about  them  upon  their  ponies,  and  fired  their  rifles  at 
long  range. 

"  Dig  a  trench  with  your  knives,"  shouted  Bridger. 
"  These  fellows  are  out  for  our  blood  and  they  are 
going  to  come  pretty  near  getting  us.  Move  over 
near  that  water  hole  so  that  they  can't  make  us  die 
of  thirst,  and  we'll  see  who  can  last  the  longest." 

Scrambling  to  their  knees,  the  plainsmen  quickly 
threw  up  a  barricade  near  the  water  hole,  and,  hob 
bling  their  ponies  behind  them,,  began  to  take  careful 
aim  at  the  Sioux  —  one  of  whom  was  soon  sent  to  the 
Happy  Hunting  Grounds.  This  enraged  the  remain 
der,  and  wild,  blood-curdling  yells  echoed  across  the 
prairie  as  they  drew  nearer,  hoping  to  make  a  rush 
and  annihilate  the  five  white  trappers. 

"  Get  ready,  boys ! "  again  shouted  Bridger. 
"  They're  going  to  rush  us !  " 

All  prepared  for  the  advance  by  laying  out  addi 
tional  ammunition  and  placing  long  hunting-knives 
near  at  hand.  In  a  few  moments  the  Sioux  came  on, 
whipping  their  ponies  to  their  utmost  speed,  and 
yelping  madly. 

A  ringing  volley  knocked  over  four  of  the  leaders, 
but  still  on  they  came.  Another  shot  sent  a  fifth 
chieftain  to  the  Great  Beyond,  and,  as  the  trappers 
reloaded,  the  Sioux  seemed  to  lose  heart.  They 
swerved  aside  from  the  breastwork,  offering  excellent 


JIM    BRIDGER  209 

targets  to  the  plainsmen,  and,  with  a  dull  thud,  still 
another  red  warrior  fell  from  his  galloping  pinto. 
Two  of  the  trappers,  meanwhile,  were  wounded  by 
bullets,  while  an  arrow  stuck  into  the  coat  sleeve  of 
Jim  Bridger,  himself. 

Now  retiring  beyond  range,  the  redskins  kept  up 
a  perpetual  fusillade  with  rifles  and  with  arrows.  The 
trappers  held  their  fire,  threw  up  still  higher  entrench 
ments,  and  waited  for  the  next  onslaught,  but  this  did 
not  come.  Instead,  the  Sioux  lighted  the  long,  dry 
prairie  grass,  and  a  sheet  of  flame  and  smoke  curled 
surely  and  steadily  towards  the  band  of  plainsmen,  for 
the  wind  was  blowing  directly  upon  them.  What  were 
they  to  do  now  ? 

Necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention.  Quick  as  a 
flash,  Jim  Bridger  leaped  across  the  embankment, 
touched  the  grass  off  immediately  in  front  of  them, 
and  burnt  off  quite  a  small  alley-way  before  the  roar 
ing  crackling  flames  came  to  their  place  of  refuge. 
The  force  of  the  flames  thus  spent  itself  before  the 
embankment  was  reached,  and  the  wily  savages  re 
newed  their  whooping  and  yelling.  Again  they 
charged,  but  again  they  were  driven  off;  while  night 
closed  over  both  besieger  and  besieged,  bringing  a  lull 
to  the  unequal  battle. 

Next  day  the  fight  was  renewed,  and  all  five  of  the 
trappers  were  wounded.  Towards  evening  it  was  de 
cided  that  one  of  the  party  should  creep  through  the 
lines  and  bring  aid  from  a  camp  of  fifty  trappers,  who 
were  some  miles  down  the  river.  The  choice  fell  upon 
Jim  Bridger,  and  it  found  him  ready  to  undertake 


210        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

the  hazardous  expedition.  At  twelve  o'clock  he 
crawled  over  the  side  of  the  little  fortification  and 
wormed  his  way  towards  the  fringe  of  red  warriors 
who  lay  about  them  in  a  circle. 

The  scout  kept  on  as  quietly  as  he  could  and  crawled 
for  fully  two  hundred  yards  before  he  saw,  or  heard, 
anything  of  the  redskins.  Then  he  got  to  his  feet  (as 
he  considered  himself  through  their  lines)  and  pre 
pared  to  run.  But  before  him  was  an  Indian  pony, 
its  master  sound  asleep  by  its  side.  The  horse  had 
been  feeding  in  a  deep  ravine,  and  —  suddenly  scent 
ing  the  trapper  —  gave  a  snort  which  roused  its 
master.  The  Sioux  warrior  gazed  stupidly  at  the 
frontiersman. 

But  Bridger  did  not  take  long  to  make  up  his  mind 
what  to  do.  He  dashed  towards  the  Indian,  intending 
to  strangle  him  before  he  could  give  the  alarm.  The 
redskin  uttered  a  loud  whoop,  and  his  companions 
immediately  ran  in  his  direction.  The  scout  realized 
that  nothing  was  now  to  be  gained  by  silence,  and, 
pulling  out  his  pistol,  shot  the  red  man  dead.  Then, 
leaping  upon  his  mustang,  he  urged  him  upon  the  gal 
lop.  The  Sioux  were  all  around  him  on  their  pintos, 
but  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  upon  one  of  their 
fastest  horses,  which  seemed  to  outdistance  any  of 
the  pursuers. 

It  was  a  hot  chase.  The  red  men  fired  again  and 
again  at  the  fleeing  trapper  but  they  could  not  hit  him. 
His  mustang  leaped  over  the  deep  crevasses,  dodged 
badger  and  prairie-dog  holes,  and  brought  him  safely 
to  the  camp  of  his  companions  by  two  o'clock  in  the 


JIM   BRIDGEE  211 

afternoon.  The  Sioux  had  given  up  the  chase,  and, 
little  suspecting  that  other  trappers  were  camped  near 
by,  had  returned  to  the  siege  of  the  four,  hoping 
now  to  make  one  sudden  rush  and  gain  their  scalps. 
Their  blood  was  up,  for  twenty-five  of  their  num 
ber  had  fallen  before  the  accurate  fire  of  the  be 
sieged. 

"  Come  at  once !  "  cried  the  panting  Bridger,  as  he 
reached  the  camp  of  the  plainsmen.  "If  you  do  not 
hurry,  my  four  companions  will  all  be  massacred  by 
the  red  men.  To  horse !  To  horse !  " 

It  did  not  take  the  trappers  long  to  catch  their 
ponies  and  jump  into  their  saddles. 

"  Show  us  where  your  friends  are !  "  cried  they, 
"  and  we'll  fix  th'  redskins  before  another  sun." 

Bridger  turned  and  piloted  the  band  of  plainsmen 
back  to  the  place  where  he  had  left  his  beleaguered 
companions.  They  went  on  the  run,  but,  making  a 
wide  detour  in  order  to  gain  the  sand-hills  in  the  rear 
of  the  besiegers,  waited  until  morning.  Then  they 
heard  rifle  shots  in  the  distance  and  knew  that  the 
battle  was  on  again. 

Creeping  towards  the  sound  of  firing,  they  soon  saw 
the  Sioux  preparing  for  a  final  charge  upon  the  valor 
ous  four,  and  opened  upon  them.  They  had  clustered 
together  for  a  rush,  and  this  weltering  volley  fairly 
took  the  heart  out  of  those  of  small  courage.  Many 
fell  dead,  —  the  rest  made  all  haste  to  get  out  of 
range,  —  while  the  four  trappers  in  the  embankment 
came  running  towards  their  deliverers  like  wild  men. 
With  yells  of  joy  they  hugged  the  burly  form  of  Jim 


212        FAMOUS   PEONTIEESMEN 

Bridger,  to  whose  nerve  and  courage  they  owed  their 
lives. 

The  scout  and  plainsman  soon  moved  from  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Missouri  —  after  the  fur  trade 
had  ceased  to  be  prosperous  —  and  founded  a  trading 
post  in  the  southwestern  part  of  the  State  of  Wyo 
ming  —  named  Fort  Bridger.  Here  he  dealt  in  skins, 
furs,  and  peltries,  accumulating  a  large  amount  of 
property,  as  the  Fort  was  a  stopping-place  for  all  the 
emigrant  trains  bound  for  Salt  Lake  City  and  for 
California.  He  remained  true  to  his  Blackfoot  wife, 
and  several  half-breed  children  made  life  merry  in  the 
long,  low  log-hut  which  the  scout  had  erected  as  his 
abode.  The  famous  plainsman  lived  to  a  ripe,  old  age 
—  like  most  of  the  early  trappers  —  and  was  ever 
ready  to  tell  of  his  battle  with  the  Sioux,  when  he 
rescued  his  four  companions  from  their  clutches.  This 
was  the  most  thrilling  of  all  his  many  adventures  upon 
the  frontier. 


"OLD    BILL"    WILLIAMS: 
THE  FAMOUS   LOG   RIDER   OF   COLORADO 

"  IT    HATE  every  Indian  that  I  ever  saw  and  would 
just  as  lief  take  a  shot  at  one  as  eat ! " 

So  spoke  a  raw-boned  trapper,  with  a  tan 
gled  mat  of  brown  hair  hanging  across  his  shoulders, 
and,  as  he  said  this,  he  gazed  vindictively  toward 
some  Indian  warriors  who  were  riding  slowly  past  the 
wagon-train  with  which  the  plainsman  was  travelling. 
His  comrades  looked  at  him  and  laughed,  for  this  was 
the  favorite  theme  of  Bill  Williams,  familiarly  known 
as  "  Old  Bill,"  although  this  was  a  term  of  endear 
ment  and  not  because  of  his  years,  for  he  was  as  young 
as  any  of  them. 

The  Indians  rode  on,  and  from  their  own  glances, 
which  they  threw  at  the  gaunt  and  ungainly  trapper, 
it  was  plainly  evident  that  they  fully  reciprocated  the 
feeling  which  the  plainsman  held  for  them.  "  Ugh ! 
He  one  bad  man !  "  a  gaudy  warrior  was  heard  to 
remark. 

"  Old  Bill  "  Williams  was  born  in  Tennessee,  his 
father  being  one  of  the  Virginian  pioneers  who  crossed 
the  Blue  Ridge  and  settled  in  the  state  when  it  was 
swarming  with  Indians,  —  all  eager  to  have  the  land 
for  themselves  alone  —  and  not  willing  to  allow  the 
whites  to  get  possession  of  it  without  a  severe  strug- 

213 


214        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

gle.  His  son  grew  up  in  surroundings  of  savagery 
and  warfare.  He  took  part  in  many  of  the  Ohio  cam 
paigns  against  the  red  men  in  that  state,  and  was  in 
variably  used  as  a  scout,  for  his  knowledge  of  wood 
craft  was  excellent.  After  the  red  men  were  partially 
subdued,  he  moved  further  west  to  the  Rockies,  where 
his  scouting  habits  still  clung  to  him.  He  would  often 
be  absent  for  many  weeks  upon  his  solitary  expedi 
tions,  and  would  as  frequently  return  with  scalps  as 
with  the  furs  of  wild  animals. 

The  Crows  and  the  Black  feet  were  continually  at 
war  with  each  other,  with  the  advantage  upon  the  side 
of  the  latter,  for  the  Crows  were  more  cowardly  than 
their  warlike  enemies.  They  had  the  advantage,  how 
ever,  of  having  a  white  renegade  to  lead  them.  His 
name  was  Rose :  formerly  one  of  the  land  pirates  who 
lived  near  and  upon  the  treacherous  waters  of  the 
Mississippi.  This  desperate  man  taught  the  redskins 
how  to  fight  like  the  whites  and  continually  advised 
them  in  their  councils  of  war,  so  that  they  often  de 
feated  the  Blackfeet  in  their  sanguinary  encoun 
ters. 

One  day  "  Old  Bill "  Williams  was  off  on  a  scout 
with  Bill  Gordon,  and,  becoming  separated  from  him, 
was  endeavoring  to  reach  camp  by  water,  so  as  to 
leave  no  trail  for  the  eye  of  some  lurking  Blackfoot 
warrior.  He  was  therefore  floating  down  stream  on 
a  log.  As  he  reached  a  shallow  part  of  the  creek  the 
muddied  water  and  footprints  upon  the  bank  showed 
where  a  big  grizzly  had  just  gone  by. 

"  By  Gravy/'  said  the  scout  to  himself,  "  here's  the 


"OLD    BILL'     WILLIAMS         215 

chance  to  make  a  hundred  dollars  from  that  old  fel 
low's  hide.  I'm  after  him." 

Wading  to  the  shore,  he  started  off  through  the 
brush,  and  followed  Bruin  with  his  head  down,  for 
the  bushes  kept  slapping  him  in  the  eyes.  As  he  was 
thus  proceeding,  he  suddenly  debouched  from  the 
brush  into  a  cleared  space.  Before  him  was  no 
grizzly,  but  a  band  of  ten  Blackfoot  warriors.  They 
stopped  in  amazement,  and  so  did  Williams,  who  said 
in  loud  tones :  "  Gee-hos-i-phat !  " 

The  Indians,  on  the  other  hand,  set  up  a  loud 
yelping,  and,  seeing  them  preparing  to  fire,  "  Old  Bill  " 
raised  his  trusty  flint-lock,  pulled  the  trigger,  and 
knocked  over  a  big,  fine-looking  savage  who  had  on 
the  war-bonnet  of  a  chieftain.  Not  stopping  to  make 
closer  acquaintance,  the  wiry  Bill  then  dashed  into  a 
neighboring  canyon.  As  he  glanced  over  his  shoulder 
he  saw  that  only  four  of  the  Blackfeet  were  coming 
after  him. 

The  scout  raced  along  for  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile;  then,  seeing  that  the  redskins  were  far  behind, 
stopped  in  order  to  load  his  rifle.  He  had  just  rammed 
home  a  ball  when  the  Blackfeet  began  to  draw  near, 
so  he  dropped  behind  the  stump  of  a  moss-grown  tree 
and  waited  for  them  to  come  on.  They  approached 
quite  hurriedly,  gazing  at  the  ground  for  tracks,  and 
eagerly  pointing  out  the  traces  of  the  trapper's  foot 
prints.  When  they  came  within  good  range  "  Old 
Bill  "  pressed  the  trigger  and  a  Blackfoot  brave  fell  to 
the  earth,  shot  through  the  heart. 

"  I  reckon  that  this  will  stop  'em  fer  er  minute  er 


216        FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

two/'  said  the  man  of  the  plains  as  he  continued  his 
flight  up  the  canyon.  He  raced  ahead  for  about  a  half 
a  mile,  then  halted  again  in  order  to  load  his  gun. 

The  Indians  were  soon  upon  him,  but  they  had 
learned  caution,  and  spread  out  on  either  side  of  him, 
in  order  to  get  in  his  rear.  "  Old  Bill  "  was  not  to  be 
caught  napping,  and  ran  like  a  deer  still  further  up 
the  divide.  He  was  much  swifter  of  foot  than  the 
red  men,  and  soon  left  them  far  behind.  The  scout 
sat  down  upon  a  fallen  tree  trunk,  and  said  to  him 
self: 

"  Now,  I'll  back  track  like  a  grizzly,  and  will  get 
another  shot  at  these  painted  hyenas." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  he  put  on  a  furious 
burst  of  speed  for  about  a  half  a  mile,  then  doubled 
back  for  about  two  hundred  yards.  To  the  right  was 
some  fallen  timber,  and  into  this  the  trapper  skipped 
like  a  molly  cotton-tail.  "  Ah  ha !  "  said  he.  "  I 
think  this  will  get  'em !  " 

In  a  few  moments  the  red  warriors  hastened  by  on 
the  run:  one  of  them  about  a  hundred  yards  astern 
of  the  rest.  As  he  came  opposite  the  hiding-place  of 
the  scout,  "  Old  Bill  "  leaped  into  view,  and  knocking 
him  down  with  a  well  directed  bullet,  seized  his  vic 
tim's  gun  just  as  another  started  to  come  back  to 
where  he  was  standing.  This  one  was  dispatched  by 
the  Blackfoot  rifle,  and  "  Old  Bill  "  had  the  satisfac 
tion  of  seeing  the  fourth  (and  last)  savage  run  up 
the  canyon  in  terror,  screaming: 

"The  Great  Spirit  is  with  him!  The  Great  Spirit 
is  with  him!  " 


"OLD   BILL'     WILLIAMS         217 

As  he  disappeared  a  broad  smile  came  to  the  face 
of  the  trapper,  while  he  wiped  the  beads  of  perspira 
tion  from  his  brow. 

"By  Crickets!"  said  he.  "A  tight  squeeze,  Bill. 
A  tight  squeeze !  " 

I  regret  to  state  that  the  old  fellow  scalped  the  dead 
redskins,  for  he  was  apparently  as  much  of  an  Indian 
as  were  his  enemies.  He  also  took  the  precaution  to 
plunge  into  a  mountain  stream  which  gurgled  and 
rushed  down  a  side  of  the  canyon.  He  followed 
the  water  until  he  reached  the  mouth  of  the  can 
yon,  then,  as  he  heard  voices,  dashed  into  a  crevasse 
in  the  rocks.  A  number  of  Blackfeet  soon  went 
by. 

"  Where  has  the  old  wolf  gone  ?  "  he  heard  one  of 
them  ask.  "  He  runs  like  a  rabbit." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  another,  "  but  he  has  an 
eye  like  a  hawk,  and  can  hold  the  shooting-stick  with 
out  flinching.  Go  carefully!  Go  carefully!  He  may 
be  hidden  near  by !  " 

They  went  on  up  the  canyon,  and  not  long  after 
wards  a  wailing  and  screeching  came  from  their  di 
rection,  showing  that  they  had  discovered  their  dead. 

"  This  is  no  place  for  me,"  mused  the  old  scout. 
"  I  must  get  away  quickly." 

Darting  up  a  neighboring  gully,  he  had  just  stowed 
himself  away  in  a  fissure  of  the  rocky  wall  when  he 
heard  the  Blackfeet  returning.  They  were  carrying 
their  dead  companions  and  were  wailing  dismally. 
"  Old  Bill  "  knew  that  there  would  be  small  chance 
for  him  should  he  fall  into  their  clutches.  The  cold 


218        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

shivers  ran  up  and  down  his  spine  as  he  contemplated 
such  a  happening. 

For  two  days  the  trapper  remained  in  the  canyon. 
He  was  afraid  to  venture  forth,  because  the  Blackfeet 
were  undoubtedly  near  by,  and  he  knew  that,  once 
they  again  saw  him,  it  would  be  all  up  with  "  Old 
Bill."  He  had  a  tough,  dried  piece  of  buffalo  meat 
with  him,  which  kept  up  his  strength,  although  he 
suffered  terribly  from  thirst  during  the  day,  for  he 
was  afraid  to  venture  to  the  stream  until  nightfall. 
Far  off,  in  the  valley,  he  could  hear  the  death  chant 
of  the  red  men. 

Three  days  passed  and  "  Old  Bill  "  was  feeling  faint 
from  lack  of  food.  Climbing  the  wall  of  the  canyon, 
behind  his  place  of  refuge,  he  saw  the  Blackfeet  far 
below  him  in  the  valley.  They  were  moving  camp. 
Hurrah!  Their  tepee  poles  were  coming  down  and 
they  were  walking  away.  They  gradually  faded  from 
view.  Again  Hurrah !  The  old  scout  was  smiling 
now. 

Luck  was  still  with  him,  for  he  shot  an  antelope 
soon  afterwards,  cooked  the  stringy  meat  and  felt 
stronger.  Then  he  rolled  a  stout  log  loose  from  some 
fallen  timber,  pushed  it  into  the  river  and  paddled 
down  stream  upon  this  flimsy  boat. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  dodge  the  redskins,  now,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  A  feller  walkin'  leaves  too  good  er 
trail." 

No  savage  eye  detected  him  in  his  journey  upon 
this  log,  and,  about  a  week  later,  he  arrived,  smiling, 
at  a  frontier  trading  post.  "  Old  Bill "  was  royally 


'OLD   BILL'     WILLIAMS         219 

welcomed  by  his  brother  trappers,  who  slapped  him 
on  the  back,  drank  his  health,  not  once,  but  twenty 
times,  and  gave  him  a  new  rifle  which  they  had  just 
captured  from  some  half-breeds. 

"  Old  Bill  "  took  this  with  good  humor,  for  it  was 
all  in  the  day's  work  of  a  scout  upon  the  frontier.  In  a 
week  he  left  upon  another  excursion  into  the  wilds, 
and  alone,  for  he  was  like  a  "  solitary,"  or  buffalo 
bull,  who  roams  the  prairie  away  from  the  rest  of 
the  herd.  He  preferred  to  be  without  associates 
in  his  work.  "  Two  men,"  said  he,  "  leave  a 
broader  trail  than  one,  and  there  are  many  Indians 
in  the  country.  Two  men  make  more  noise.  I  go 
alone." 

"  He  was  a  great  hunter,"  said  an  old  Indian.  "  He 
was  a  great  trapper  —  took  many  beaver  —  and  a 
great  warrior,  for  his  belt  was  full  of  scalps.  But  he 
have  no  friend:  no  squaw.  Always  by  himself.  He 
like  the  eagle  in  the  heavens,  or  the  panther  in  the 
mountains.  He  one  strange  man." 

Yes,  "  Old  Bill "  was  a  strange  man,  but  he  lived 
his  life  upon  the  frontier  for  many  years  without  a 
mishap,  although  his  body  bore  the  marks  of  many 
an  encounter.  Silent  and  taciturn,  those  who  were 
associated  with  him  knew  only  of  his  deeds  by  the 
fresh  scalps  at  his  girdle,  the  notches  upon  the  stock 
of  his  gun,  and  the  scars  upon  the  exposed  portion 
of  his  body.  His  traps  yielded  him  a  small  living, 
and  with  this  he  seemed  to  be  content. 

The  trapper  lived  to  be  an  old  man.  Although  in 
innumerable  skirmishes  and  hand-to-hand  encounters 


220        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

with  the  Blackfeet,  Crows,  Sioux,  and  other  wild 
riders  of  the  plains,  he  came  off  scott  free  until  he 
met  a  band  of  Blackfeet  when  trapping  near  the  head 
waters  of  the  Missouri  River.  Here  he  was  sur 
rounded  by  twenty  or  thirty  braves,  but,  by  skillfully 
climbing  his  pony  down  the  shelving  sides  of  a  can 
yon,  made  his  escape.  They  found  his  tracks,  how 
ever,  and  followed  him  like  a  pack  of  hounds  after 
a  fox. 

"Old  Bill"  still  was  lithe  and  active,  although 
sixty  years,  and  more,  of  age.  Again  and  again  he 
hid  himself,  and,  with  two  or  three  shots,  laid  out 
as  many  of  the  advancing  redskins.  He  was  fortu 
nate  in  being  able  to  keep  away  from  the  vindictive 
warriors  for  four  full  days,  although  wounded  twice: 
an  arrow  point  in  his  thigh  and  a  bullet  through  the 
fleshy  part  of  his  leg.  Finally,  he  reached  a  series  of 
canyons  near  the  Yellowstone,  where  numerous 
streams  made  it  possible  for  him  to  leave  little 
trace  of  his  trail,  and  great  boulders  of  rock  hid 
his  retreating  form.  The  red  men  here  gave  up 
the  chase,  for  their  quarry  defied  both  fatigue  and 
wounds. 

"The  Great  Spirit  is  still  with  the  Lone  Wolf," 
said  they.  "  We  will  let  him  go,  for  here  he  can  kill 
many  of  us  before  we  can  reach  him." 

It  was  November.  A  bleak  wind  blew  gusts  of 
snow  across  the  sandy  plain  as  the  red  warriors  re 
treated.  "  Old  Bill "  continued  on  his  way  into  the 
advancing  storm.  The  white  flakes  now  covered  the 
earth.  A  bitter  wind  assailed  him,  and  great  piles  of 


"OLD   BILL"   WILLIAMS         221 

drifting  snow  whirled  and  eddied  about  his  gaunt  and 
emaciated  form.  Dismounting  under  the  side  of  a 
projecting  cliff,  he  made  a  fire  by  means  of  rubbing 
two  dried  sticks  together,  ate  some  biltong,  which  he 
fortunately  had  stowed  away  in  a  saddle-bag,  and  lay 
down  to  rest.  His  poor,  shivering  pony  cropped  the 
dry  bunches  of  grass  in  silent  misery. 

Two  weeks  later  a  party  of  trappers  were  crossing 
the  stream  near  the  place  where  the  old  fellow  had 
lain  down,  and  saw  a  pony  nibbling  the  bark  from  a 
cotton-wood  tree.  He  was  gaunt,  famished,  and  his 
ribs  were  fairly  sticking  through  his  flesh.  They 
rode  up  to  him  and  were  much  distressed  to  see  the 
form  of  a  man  lying  beneath  the  white  mantle  of 
newly  fallen  snow.  They  brushed  this  away  and 
found  "  Old  Bill ;  "  his  grizzled  head  bent  forward 
upon  his  breast,  and  his  clothing  stained  with  the 
wounds  which  had  sapped  his  very  life-blood.  He 
had  gone  to  the  Great  Beyond. 

With  tears  in  their  eyes  the  trappers  hollowed  out 
a  grave  for  the  lone  refugee.  Here  they  buried  him, 
and  finding  his  faithful  steed  unwilling  to  leave  the 
place  where  he  had  carried  his  master,  shot  the  ema 
ciated  animal.  They  placed  both  in  the  same  grave, 
and  over  their  forms  erected  a  huge  pile  of  stones, 
not  only  to  mark  the  last  resting-place  of  "  Old  Bill," 
but  also  to  keep  the  wolves  and  coyotes  from  digging 
up  the  remains. 

Thus,  in  a  wild  canyon  perished  the  aged  solitary, 
and  in  the  peace  and  quiet  of  that  wilderness  in  which 
he  loved  to  wander,  hovers  the  spirit  of  the  lonely 


222        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

man  of  the  plains.  His  last  resting-place  well  suited 
the  career  of  "  Old  Bill :  "  trapper,  scout,  and  fearless 
adventurer  among  the  savage  men,  wild  beasts,  and 
inhospitable  wastes  of  the  then  unpeopled  West. 


"BIG  FOOT'3  WALLACE: 

NOTED  RANGER  ON  THE  TEXAN 
FRONTIER 

ABOUT  the  year  1839,  a  Waco  Indian  chieftain 
lived  in  the  State  of  Texas,  whose  feet  were 
of  such  giant  proportions  that  he  was  called 
"  Big  Foot."  He  was  a  bold  and  daring  fellow. 
Often,  when  darkness  hid  his  movement,  he  would 
sneak  into  the  frontier  town  of  Austin,  would  kill 
whom  he  could,  and  would  carry  off  horses  and  other 
property.  In  vain  the  settlers  tried  to  dispatch  him, 
for  he  was  a  veritable  scourge  to  the  settlements. 

The  fellow  was  a  physical  giant,  being  six  feet  seven 
inches  in  height,  of  muscular  build,  and  weighing 
about  three  hundred  pounds.  His  tracks  measured 
fourteen  inches,  from  heel  to  toe,  so  you  can  readily 
see  that  the  name  that  was  applied  to  him  was  not  ill 
chosen.  Often  these  footprints  would  be  seen  in  the 
sandy  soil,  after  he  had  committed  one  of  his  thieving 
expeditions,  and  the  settlers  used  to  cry  out : 

"Good-by  to  our  horses!  Old  'Big  Foot'  is 
around  again.  Good-by!  " 

One  evening  the  big  Indian  came  into  Austin,  and, 
after  prowling  around  for  a  time,  committed  some 
theft  upon  the  property  of  a  settler  named  Gravis. 

223 


224        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

He  then  went  to  the  cabin  occupied  by  a  huge,  lanky 
ranger  called  Wallace.  Next  morning  Gravis  trailed 
the  Indian  to  the  doorstep  of  the  pioneer,  and,  with 
out  trying  to  trace  it  any  further,  aroused  the  owner 
of  the  cabin. 

"  See  here,  Wallace,"  said  he,  "  you've  been  steal 
ing  from  my  place  and  I  intend  to  get  even  with  you. 
No  one  has  as  big  feet  as  you  have  around  here,  and 
I  have  found  your  tracks  leading  from  my  hut  to 
your  very  door/' 

The  accused  man  grew  angry  and  prepared  to  whip 
the  other. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Gravis,  at  this  juncture,  ".if  you 
prove  to  me  that  these  are  not  your  foot-prints  you 
can  go  clear  and  I  will  apologize." 

He  stepped  aside,  as  he  spoke,  and  Wallace  imme 
diately  went  to  the  Indian's  track.  He  placed  his  foot 
in  it,  exclaiming: 

"  By  Gravy,  Gravis,  this  is  old  '  Big  Foot/  the 
Injin's,  track.  Can't  you  see  that  it's  mor'n  two 
inches  longer  than  my  own !  " 

The  first  speaker  bent  over  the  marks  with  an  ex 
clamation  of  astonishment. 

"You're  right,"  said  he.  "Wallace,  old  man,  I 
beg  your  pardon."  And,  shaking  him  warmly  by  the 
hand,  he  walked  away. 

While  this  was  going  on,  a  man  named  Fox  came 
to  the  doorway  of  Wallace's  hut.  He  had  been  spend 
ing  the  night  there,  for  he  was  a  business  partner  of 
the  frontiersman.  As  his  friend  turned  towards  the 
cabin,  he  cried  out  gleefully: 


"  BIG    FOOT  "    WALLACE. 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         225 

"  Well,  well,  old  scout.  When  '  Big  Foot '  —  the 
Indian  —  is  not  around  we  will  all  call  you  l  Big 
Foot/  Ha!  Ha!  That's  a  good  one,  I  swan.  *  Big 
Foot '  you'll  be  from  henceforth." 

And  that  is  the  way  that  William  Alexander  An 
derson  Wallace  came  to  be  called  "  Big  Foot  "  Wal 
lace. 

Born  in  Lexington,  Virginia,  in  1817,  this  intrepid 
frontiersman  came  of  good,  old  Scottish  stock,  and 
stock  that  was  of  fighting  spirit,  for  two  of  his  uncles 
were  killed  in  the  battle  of  Guilford  Court  House. 
The  Wallaces  were  all  of  powerful  build,  and  the  hero 
of  our  sketch  was  six  feet  two  inches  in  height  (in 
his  moccasins)  and  weighed  two  hundred  and  forty 
pounds.  He  had  long  arms,  large  hands,  and  thick, 
curly,  black  hair.  One  of  his  uncles  was  nearly  seven 
feet  tall  and  his  brother  was  six  feet  five  inches  in 
height. 

As  a  young  fellow,."  Big  Foot"  Wallace  had  little 
of  the  excitement  which  was  to  come  to  him  in  later 
years.  When  about  twenty  years  of  age  war  com 
menced  between  the  American  colonists  and  Mexicans 
for  the  possession  of  Texas.  Many  young  men  went 
from  Virginia  to  assist  the  Texans  in  driving  out  the 
soldiers  under  Santa  Anna,  among  them  Samuel 
Wallace,  the  older  brother  of  William  with  the  big 
feet.  Samuel  was  killed  in  the  massacre  of  Colonel 
Fannin's  men  at  Goliad,  which  has  been  described  in 
"  Famous  Scouts,"  and  with  him  were  also  dispatched 
three  cousins  of  our  hero.  When  the  news  of  this 
affair  reached  Lexington,  Virginia,  great  was  the  grief 


226        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

among  the  relatives  of  these  brave  and  valiant  fron 
tiersmen,  and  William  was  much  upset  by  it. 

"  I  am  going  to  Texas,"  he  cried  out.  "  And  I 
intend  to  spend  my  life  in  killing  Mexicans.  Those 
men  who  could  massacre  my  brother  after  he  had  sur 
rendered  and  had  been  disarmed,  can  expect  no  quar 
ter  from  me.  I  intend  to  have  revenge !  " 

He  had  splendid  opportunities  in  later  years  to  make 
good  this  threat. 

Taking  ship  from  New  Orleans  to  Galveston,  Will 
iam  soon  set  foot  on  Texan  soil.  The  war  was  over. 
Santa  Anna  had  been  defeated  and  captured  the  year 
before,  at  the  famous  battle  of  San  Jacinto,  and  Texas 
was  now  an  independent  republic.  So  the  young 
ranger  drifted  to  Colorado,  where  he  was  soon  sur 
rounded  by  a  large  party  of  Indians  and  was  captured. 
They  carried  him  to  their  camp,  but  he  only  remained 
there  a  week,  before  he  slipped  away,  eluded  his  pur 
suers,  and  got  back  to  the  settlement  of  San  Antonio. 
His  restless  spirit  could  not  be  confined  to  the  streets 
of  a  city  and  he  soon  went  far  to  the  southwest,  where 
he  camped  and  hunted  along  the  Medina  River. 
Finally  he  built  a  cabin  there  and  lived  the  life  of  a 
lone  huntsman  and  trapper  in  a  region  wrhich  was 
infested  by  Indians,  horse-thieves,  and  fugitives  from 
justice. 

"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  had  not  been  long  in  the 
country  before  he  realized  that  something  had  to  be 
done  in  order  to  keep  law  and  order  in  this  unsettled 
land.  Besides  the  numerous  raids  of  hostile  bands  of 
Indians  —  who  roamed  at  will  from  New  Mexico  to 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE          227 

the  coast  region  of  Texas  —  desperadoes  and  gamblers 
swarmed  around  all  the  border  towns,  and  more  par 
ticularly  around  San  Antonio.  No  one  was  safe  who 
opposed  these  wild  fellows,  and  it  was  almost  impossi 
ble  to  keep  horses.  The  thieves  would  even  dig 
through  the  adobe  walls  of  the  stables  in  order  to  steal 
them.  A  strong  hand  was  needed  to  awe  these  des 
perate  men  and  keep  the  Indians  in  check.  There  was 
one  man  in  western  Texas  at  this  time  who  was  quite 
equal  to  the  emergency.  His  name  was  "  Captain  " 
Jack  Hays. 

The  Governor  of  Texas  sent  for  him. 

"  I  hereby  commission  you  to  raise  a  company  of 
Rangers,"  said  he  to  the  gallant  Captain  Jack.  "  You 
will  make  San  Antonio  your  headquarters  and  you 
must  hold  both  Indians  and  horse-thieves  in  check. 
You  can  follow  the  redskins  anywhere  that  you  wish, 
and,  if  necessary,  you  can  shoot  any  horse-thief  upon 
the  spot." 

"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  soon  heard  of  the  Rangers, 
and  applied  for  admission  at  once.  He  was  accepted, 
for  he  was  strong,  fearless,  a  good  rider,  and  an  ex 
cellent  shot.  Captain  Hays  was  very  particular  as 
to  the  kind  of  men  that  he  enlisted,  and  that  is  why 
he  had  the  best  set  of  Indian  fighters  that  Texas  ever 
produced.  Each  man  had  to  have  a  good  horse,  val 
ued  at  one  hundred  dollars,  and  also  a  rifle  of  the  best 
make.  The  desperadoes  and  horse-thieves  soon  began 
to  disappear  from  the  neighborhood  of  San  Antonio. 

In  the  numerous  affrays  which  now  took  place  "  Big 
Foot "  Wallace  had  a  prominent  part.  Several  battles 


228        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

were  fought  with  the  Indians.  In  1842  the  Mexicans 
made  a  sudden  descent  from  Mexico  and  captured  San 
Antonio.  At  the  quarters  used  by  the  Texan  Rangers 
they  found  a  pair  of  pantaloons  belonging  to  "  Big 
Foot "  Wallace,  and  this  they  appropriated  as  their 
own. 

"  By  the  eternal  prophet/'  shouted  the  scout,  when 
he  hear  of  the  theft.  "  I  will  sure  get  even  with  the 
Greasers  for  this,  and  I  will  kill  a  Senor  and  get  an 
other  pair  of  breeches,  or  bust." 

Not  long  afterwards  Jack  Hays  and  his  men  rode 
near  the  town  and  gave  the  Mexicans  such  "  a  dare  " 
that  their  whole  force  of  cavalry  and  infantry  came 
out  to  chase  them.  There  were  four  hundred  Mex 
icans  and  but  a  small  squad  of  Rangers,  yet  the  Tex- 
ans  kept  up  a  stiff  firing  and  retreated  slowly  across 
the  plains.  During  the  battle,  "  Big  Foot  "  Wallace 
was  continually  upon  the  lookout  to  kill  a  big  Mexican 
and  get  another  pair  of  trousers  to  replace  his  own. 
He  had  not  long  to  wait. 

The  Mexicans  soon  charged,  and  in  the  mix-up 
that  ensued  one  daring  fellow  approached  Wallace, 
and  pointing  his  carbine  at  him,  cried  out :  "  Take 
that,  you  accursed  cow-thief !  "  Whereupon  he  dis 
charged  his  piece  in  his  face.  The  large  ounce  ball 
from  the  clumsy  musket  just  grazed  the  nose  of  the 
scout  and  nearly  blinded  him  with  smoke.  "  Big 
Foot "  fired  his  own  piece,  but  missed.  As  this  oc 
curred,  another  Ranger  cried  out :  "  My,  my,  what 
awful  bad  shooting,"  and  —  aiming  his  rifle  —  quickly 
sent  a  ball  through  the  Mexican's  body.  The  man 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE          229 

from  the  south  of  the  Rio  Grande  fell  against  a 
mesquite  tree  and  soon  died. 

"  Big  Foot "  breathed  more  easily,  and  during  the 
next  charge  heard  one  of  his  companions  call  out: 

"  '  Big  Foot,'  yonder  is  a  Mexican  who  has  on  a 
pair  of  pants  large  enough  to  fit  you.  Go  get  'em, 
boy!  Go  get 'em!" 

The  Mexican  in  question  was  assisting  some  of 
the  wounded  back  to  the  rear.  Wallace  kept  his  eye 
on  him  and  said : 

"  If  I  can  get  him,  I  will.  But  th'  critter  moves 
about  so  fast  that  I  can't  draw  a  bead  on  him." 

As  he  spoke,  he  attracted  the  attention  of  General 
Caldwell,  who  commanded  some  infantrymen  who 
had  come  to  the  assistance  of  the  Rangers.  The  dress 
of  the  giant  Texan,  his  massive  frame,  and  his  actions, 
were  sufficient  to  mark  him  as  a  man  born  to  leader 
ship. 

"  What  command  do  you  hold,  sir?  "  inquired  Cald 
well,  as  he  rode  up  to  the  fighting  Ranger. 

"  None,"  answered  "  Big  Foot,"  saluting.  "  I  am 
one  of  Jack  Hays'  Rangers  and  I  want  that  fellow's 
breeches  over  there,  as  the  Greasers  have  stolen  mine 
from  me."  He  pointed,  as  he  spoke,  to  his  intended 
victim. 

The  general  laughed  and  rode  on,  determined  to 
advance  "  Big  Foot "  to  a  Lieutenancy,  if  the  oppor 
tunity  presented  itself.  The  Ranger,  meanwhile,  crept 
nearer  to  the  fellow  with  the  big  pantaloons,  and  be 
fore  many  moments  laid  him  low  by  a  well  directed 
shot,  Making  a  dash  for  the  fallen  man,  he  seized 


230        FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

him  by  the  shoulders,  dragged  him  into  the  American 
lines,  and  soon  was  wearing  a  new  pair  of  yellow 
trousers. 

"  Hurrah  for  '  Big  Foot,'  "  shouted  his  companions. 
"  He  has,  at  last,  made  good  his  threat  of  vengeance. 
Hurrah  for  '  Big  Foot!'" 

The  Mexicans  were  defeated,  driven  from  San  An 
tonio,  and  were  followed  by  Captain  Jack  Hays  and 
his  Rangers  as  far  as  the  Hondo  River,  where  the 
rear  guard  was  attacked  by  a  detachment  under  "  Big 
Foot,"  and  some  cannon  were  captured.  The  mule 
which  the  leader  was  riding  was  slightly  wounded, 
but  this  was  the  only  mishap  to  the  Americans.  The 
Mexicans  withdrew  in  safety  to  their  own  territory. 

The  blood  of  the  Texans  was  now  up.  "  Revenge 
for  the  taking  of  San  Antonio !  "  was  heard  on  every 
side.  "  Vengeance  upon  the  Mexicans!  Revenge!" 

Thus,  in  retaliation  for  the  invasion  of  Texas  under 
Wall,  an  expedition  started  for  Mexico  in  1843,  com- 
manded  by  General  Somervell.  Captain  Jack  Hays 
was  there  with  his  Rangers,  but  the  expedition  went 
to  pieces  on  the  Rio  Grande  and  most  of  the  men  came 
back,  among  them  Captain  Jack  and  many  of  his  fol 
lowers.  Five  captains,  however,  determined  to  go  on, 
in  the  invasion  of  Mexico,  —  that  is,  if  they  could 
get  men  enough.  Three  hundred  Texans  immediately 
decided  to  fight :  among  this  number,  "  Big  Foot " 
Wallace  and  several  other  Rangers.  Electing  a  cer 
tain  Captain  Fisher  to  the  chief  command,  they  crossed 
the  Rio  Grande  and  encamped  opposite  the  town  of 
Mier.  Its  streets  were  soon  to  run  red  with  blood. 


"  BIG   FOOT  '•    WALLACE         231 

The  chief  man  of  a  Mexican  town  is  called  an  al- 
cade,  and,  on  the  following  morning-,  the  Americans 
marched  into  the  town  and  told  the  alcade  that  he 
must  furnish  them  with  provisions  and  with  cloth 
ing. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Senors,"  said  the  Mexican  official,  bow 
ing.  "  To-morrow  the  articles  will  be  delivered  to 
you,  two  miles  below  your  camp." 

But  the  Texans  did  not  believe  in  taking  any 
chances.  They  brought  the  alcade  along  with  them 
when  they  went  back  to  their  camp,  so  as  to  be  sure 
that  the  provisions  would  really  be  delivered.  They 
waited  two  full  days  and  no  goods  were  to  be  seen. 
They  grew  anxious  and  soon  their  spies  made  them 
more  so,  for  these  reported  that  General  Ampudia  had 
arrived  in  Mier  with  a  large  force  of  Mexican  troops. 

"  We  will  proceed  to  the  town  and  give  them  bat 
tle  !  "  cried  out  the  Texan  commander. 

By  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  Americans  had 
all  crossed  and  were  on  their  way  to  the  little  Mexican 
post.  The  spies  were  in  front  and  first  met  the  Mex 
icans  as  they  sallied  out  from  Mier.  But  the  Rangers 
knew  how  to  shoot  and  Ampudia  retreated  before  the 
Texan  bullets.  At  dark  the  Mexicans  again  entered 
their  stronghold  and  barricaded  themselves. 

The  Texans  had  their  fighting  blood  up,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  darkness,  advanced  to  Alcantra  Creek,  east 
of  the  little  town,  where  they  halted  for  some  time. 
The  stream  ran  rapidly,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  find 
a  crossing,  but  at  last  they  all  got  over.  As  they 
scrambled  up  the  bank,  they  were  met  by  a  hot  fire, 


232        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

and  the  Mexican  cavalry  advanced  against  them.  Five 
of  the  Rangers  were  cut  off  and  captured.  Others 
made  narrow  escapes,  for  the  Mexicans  now  came  in 
close  enough  for  hand  to  hand  fighting,  and  sur 
rounded  many  of  the  more  daring.  Several  of  the 
invaders  were  compelled  to  abandon  their  horses  and 
make  a  run  for  it  across  fences  and  ditches.  A  Ranger 
called  Sam  Walker  was  caught  by  a  powerful  Mexican 
and  was  held  down,  while  others  tied  him.  One  man 
named  McMullins  was  seized  by  the  legs  as  he  was 
getting  over  a  fence,  but  his  boots  pulled  off  and  he 
made  his  escape.  This  was  fortunate. 

"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  was  not  among  those  first 
over  the  creek,  and  advanced  with  the  main  body, 
which  now  came  on,  driving  the  Mexicans  into  the 
town.  The  troops  soon  entered  Mier  and  passed  down 
a  street  leading  to  the  public  square,  where  the  Mex 
icans  had  planted  cannon.  While  advancing  rapidly, 
they  were  repeatedly  fired  upon,  and  a  Ranger  named 
Jones  was  killed.  As  he  fell,  he  lurched  against  "  Big 
Foot  "  Wallace,  who  had  felt  the  wind  from  the  bullet 
that  laid  him  low.  The  Texans  pressed  on  and  soon 
arrived  at  a  point  near  the  cannon,  where  they  received 
a  charge  of  grape-shot,  which  made  them  seek  shelter 
behind  some  buildings.  It  was  now  dark.  It  was  also 
Christmas  evening,  but  there  were  no  peaceful  revels 
in  Mier  that  winter's  day. 

The  Texans  had  but  one  way  to  advance :  by  open 
ing  a  passageway  through  the  buildings  so  that  they 
could  get  in  the  rear  of  the  deadly  cannon.  They 
worked  all  night  in  digging  a  hole  through  the  adobe 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         233 

walls.  When  daylight  came,  they  were  within  fifty 
yards  of  the  death-dealing  artillery. 

"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  was  among  those  in  the  very 
forefront  of  battle.  While  engaged  in  tunnelling 
through  the  building  he  discovered  a  Mexican  baby 
which  had  been  abandoned  during  the  hasty  retreat 
of  the  occupants  of  the  house  upon  the  approach  of 
the  Texans.  It  set  up  a  terrific  squalling  when  the 
Americans  approached  it,  so  "  Big  Foot "  carefully 
took  it  up,  and,  advancing  to  a  wall  enclosing  a  yard, 
climbed  up  and  dropped  it  over.  At  the  same  time,  he 
shouted  out  in  Spanish: 

"  Come  and  get  the  muchacho.    Quick !  " 

He  soon  heard  a  woman's  voice  and  supposed  that 
the  poor  infant  was  being  taken  care  of. 

Daylight  dawned  upon  a  scene  of  great  activity. 
Port-holes  had  been  opened  in  the  various  rooms  into 
which  the  men  had  clambered,  and  the  deadly  crack 
of  the  rifles  was  soon  heard,  as  the  Texans  began  to 
fire  at  the  artillerymen.  The  cannon  were  quickly 
silenced,  for  it  was  death  for  a  Mexican  to  venture 
near  them.  Three  attempts  were  made  by  the  "  Greas 
ers  "  to  storm  and  carry  the  Texan  position,  but  each 
failed  with  fearful  loss.  The  Mexicans,  in  fact,  came 
on  so  thickly  packed  together  that  it  was  impossible 
to  miss  them.  The  bravest  of  all  were  the  town 
guards,  who  wore  black  hats  with  white  bands  around 
them.  They  were  nearly  all  killed. 

The  Texans  were  fighting  gamely  and  the  Mex 
icans  were  soon  forced  to  abandon  all  of  their  artillery. 
Ropes  were  thrown  around  these  instruments  of  war, 


234        FAMOUS   FEONTIEKSMEN 

from  the  corners  of  buildings,  and  the  men  from  the 
South  succeeded  in  dragging  some  of  them  away. 
"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  was  doing  a  great  deal  of  shoot 
ing.  He  says  that  he  loaded  and  fired  his  rifle  fifteen 
times,  always  waited  for  a  good  chance,  and  had  a 
bead  upon  a  Mexican  every  time  that  he  pulled  the 
trigger. 

During  the  battle  bugles  sounded  constantly,  and  it 
was  reported  that  the  Mexicans  were  being  largely 
reinforced.  The  Texans,  however,  were  undismayed 
at  this  report,  and  continued  to  load  and  fire  their 
rifles  with  such  deadly  effect  that  great  confusion 
prevailed  among  their  foes,  who  continually  uttered 
cries  of  rage  and  pain,  amidst  a  constant  blast  of 
bugles.  They  occupied  the  house  tops,  where  they 
kept  their  bodies  well  hid,  and  fired  from  the  gutters 
and  from  behind  the  chimneys.  The  American  leader, 
himself,  was  severely  wounded,  while  many  of  the  gal 
lant  Texans  lay  bleeding  in  the  narrow  streets  of  the 
quaint,  little  Mexican  town. 

A  small  guard  had  been  left  by  the  Rangers  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  creek.  Just  after  daylight,  upon 
the  twenty-sixth  of  December,  these  attacked  about 
sixty  of  the  Mexican  cavalry  and  routed  them,  but, 
seeing  a  large  reinforcement  approaching,  they  des 
perately  endeavored  to  join  their  comrades  in  the 
little  town.  Out  of  the  nine  men  who  made  this  des 
perate  charge,  two  succeeded ;  four  were  killed ;  and 
three  were  captured. 

The  fortune  of  war  was  apparently  going  badly 
with  the  Mexicans,  but  a  sudden  turn  of  events  placed 


"BIG   FOOT7     WALLACE         235 

victory  in  their  very  hands.  Captain  Cameron  had 
fortified  himself  and  his  men  in  the  rear  of  a  building 
occupied  by  Fisher  and  his  support,  where  he  had  been 
exposed  to  a  fearful  fire.  Upon  the  morning  after 
Christmas  day  he  entered  the  room  occupied  by  his 
superior  officer. 

"  Send  me  reinforcements,"  he  said,  "  for  the 
bugles  are  blowing  the  charge  and  I  am  afraid  that 
I  will  be  annihilated." 

"  I  have  no  reinforcements,"  Fisher  replied.  "  You 
will  have  to  fight  on  as  you  are." 

As  he  ceased  speaking  a  white  flag  was  seen  ap 
proaching  from  the  Mexican  lines.  With  it  was  a 
Doctor  Sinnickson  —  a  Texan  who  had  been  recently 
captured  by  the  Mexican  troops.  He  had  been  ordered 
to  tell  the  Rangers  that  there  were  one  thousand  seven 
hundred  Mexican  troops  in  the  city,  and  that  three 
hundred  more  were  approaching  from  Monterey. 

"  Ampudia  says  that  it  will  be  useless  for  you  to 
resist/'  said  the  Doctor.  "  If  you  surrender,  you  will 
be  treated  like  prisoners  of  war.  If  you  resist,  no 
quarter  will  be  given !  " 

The  Texan  leader  looked  gloomily  before  him.  He 
was  on  foreign  soil.  He  was  hemmed  in  on  every 
side  by  his  enemies.  His  men  were  nearly  all  worn 
out.  The  streets  of  Mier  had  run  red  with  Mexican 
blood;  and  there  was  no  chance  to  win.  He  was  in 
favor  of  an  honorable  surrender.  But  some  thought 
that  they  could  make  a  sally  from  their  barricaded 
position,  and,  by  keeping  together,  could  fight  their 
way  out  of  town  and  to  the  borders  of  the  Rio  Grande. 


236        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

These  gathered  around  Cameron  and  begged  him  to 
take  command ;  to  make  a  rush ;  and  to  fight  a  way 
out.  Great  confusion  prevailed.  Some  began  to  leave 
their  positions  and  give  their  guns  up  to  their  enemies. 
Every  few  moments  barricades  would  be  torn  away 
and  men  would  march  out  and  surrender. 

Cameron  held  on  to  his  position  until  many  had 
given  themselves  up.  Then  he  saw  that  all  hope  vyas 
gone,  and  therefore  turned  to  his  men. 

"  Boys,'5  said  he,  "  it  is  useless  for  us  to  continue 
the  fight  any  longer.  They  are  all  gone  except  our 
selves." 

His  followers  stood  for  a  few  moments  watching 
the  crowds  of  Mexicans,  who  were  making  a  great 
demonstration.  Their  cavalry  was  charging  up  and 
down  the  streets,  while  many  were  carrying  away 
the  guns  of  the  Texans  who  were  collected  upon  the 
plaza.  The  citizens  of  the  town  were  cheering  for 
victory. 

"  I'll  never  give  up,"  said  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace. 
"  My  relatives  were  massacred  after  they  had  sur 
rendered  at  Goliad,  and  that  is  what  the  Mexicans 
will  do  to  us." 

But  Cameron  wished  to  save  the  lives  of  his  men 
and  so  took  the  lead.  As  he  marched  towards  the 
Mexican  line,  his  soldiers  followed.  When  they 
emerged  from  their  position  into  the  street  they  were 
met  by  a  strong  detachment  of  Mexicans.  The  pain 
ful  work  of  surrendering  their  arms  now  commenced. 
"Big  Foot"  Wallace  was  the  last  man  to  give  up 
his  gun,  his  knife,  and  his  pistol. 


"  BIG   FOOT  '    WALLACE         237 

The  bloody  battle  of  Mier  was  over.  The  Mexican 
loss  had  been  heavy.  With  two  thousand  in  the  field, 
five  hundred  had  been  killed.  The  Texans  had  two 
hundred  and  sixty  in  the  town,  sixteen  of  whom  were 
killed  and  thirty  of  whom  were  wounded.  The  Mex 
icans  lost  forty  artillerymen.  The  bodies  of  the  slain 
Texans  were  dragged  through  the  streets  by  the  cav 
alry,  and  were  followed  by  crowds  of  yelling  towns 
folk.  Four  rows  of  dead  Mexicans  were  laid  out  upon 
the  plaza,  where  the  priests  said  mass  among  them. 
It  had  been  a  fierce  little  battle. 

Now  the  troubles  of  the  Texan  Rangers  really  com 
menced.  The  wounded  were  left  at  the  blood-bespat 
tered  Mier  in  charge  of  the  good  Doctor  Sinnickson, 
while  the  able-bodied  Americans  were  marched 
towards  Mexico  City,  in  charge  of  General  Ampudia. 
Everywhere  they  were  met  by  jubilant  Mexicans,  who 
made  grand  demonstrations  as  they  passed  through 
the  towns, .  blowing  bugles,  hallooing,  and  charging 
around  upon  their  horses.  The  Texans  were  so 
starved  that  they  became  thin  and  haggard,  while 
their  shoes  were  worn  completely  through.  The  Mex 
ican  women  pitied  the  half-fed  Americans,  some  of 
whom  were  mere  boys.  At  Monterey  they  came  in 
with  provisions  and  fed  them.  "  Big  Foot  "  Wallace 
—  still  wearing  the  trousers  which  he  had  captured  — 
was  thin  but  game.  "  Just  give  me  a  chance  to  es 
cape,"  he  muttered  to  a  companion.  "  Then,  —  watch 
me  go ! " 

Finally  the  Texans  were  placed  in  prison  at  the 
Hacienda  Salado.  Their  numbers  were  increased  by 


238        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

a  few  ranchers  who  had  been  captured  in  other  raids. 
All  were  anxious  to  make  the  attempt  to  escape,  and 
a  plan  was  set  on  foot  to  rush  the  guards  at  sunrise 
on  the  eleventh  day  of  February,  1843.  At  Monterey 
a  similar  plot  had  been  hatched,  but  one  of  the  Texan 
officers  had  disclosed  it  to  the  Mexicans,  so  the  at 
tempt  had  not  been  made. 

All  was  soon  ready  for  the  struggle  for  freedom. 
Captain  Cameron  gave  the  signal  by  throwing  up  his 
hat,  and  two  scouts  named  Lyons  and  Brennan  led 
the  charge  upon  the  guards.  The  Mexicans  were 
taken  completely  by  surprise,  were  disarmed  at  the 
door  of  the  prison,,  and  saw  the  Texans  dash  into  the 
outer  court  of  the  building  where  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  infantrymen  were  guarding  the  arms  and 
boxes  of  cartridges.  The  Texans  numbered  two 
hundred. 

The  frontiersmen  rushed  immediately  upon  the  reg 
ular  soldiers,  who  levelled  their  muskets  at  them  and 
fired  in  their  very  faces.  The  Texans  were  not  armed, 
but  they  pressed  onward,  received  the  fire,  and  closed 
in  upon  the  yellow-skinned  custodians  of  the  jail.  It 
was  too  bold  a  dash  for  the  Mexicans.  They  sur 
rendered  or  fled  after  the  first  fire,  but  the  Texans 
had  other  soldiers  to  face. 

A  second  company  of  infantry  was  stationed  at  the 
gate  and  a  force  of  cavalry  was  outside.  The  gallant 
Texans  did  not  hesitate  for  an  instant.  The  desperate 
fellows  rushed  upon  them,  and  a  terrible  fight  ensued. 
Most  of  them  had  secured  guns  by  now,  and,  when  the 
second  hand-to-hand  fight  took  place,  they  were  better 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         239 

prepared  to  force  their  way.  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace 
did  not  have  a  gun,  so  he  rushed  at  a  Mexican  who 
had  discharged  his  piece,  and  tried  to  disarm  him. 
The  fellow  had  a  bayonet  upon  the  end  of  his  musket. 
He  made  a  vicious  thrust  at  the  gaunt  and  lanky  man 
from  Texas. 

"  Big  Foot  "  seized  the  bayonet  with  his  bare  hands, 
and  a  hard  struggle  took  place  for  the  possession  of 
it.  As  they  bent  to  and  fro,  an  unarmed  prisoner 
came  up  behind,  and,  seizing  the  gun  in  the  centre, 
wrested  it  from  the  Mexican.  The  soldier  fell  upon 
his  knees,  held  up  his  hands,  and  called  out  loudly: 
"  Senors,  have  mercy !  Have  mercy !  " 

"  You  can  go,"  shouted  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace. 

The  fight  was  now  raging  fiercely  and  the  scout 
went  into  the  thick  of  it,  brandishing  the  musket  which 
he  had  just  captured,  and  doing  awful  execution  with 
the  bayonet.  The  Texans  were  getting  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  gate  which  opened  upon  the  streets  of 
the  town.  The  Mexicans  were  uttering  screams  and 
yells  of  terror  and  surprise.  The  Rangers  were  among 
them  with  clubbed  guns  and  were  delivering  blows  to 
the  right  and  left.  The  cavalry  became  terror-stricken 
and  fled.  The  infantrymen  at  the  gate  began  to  throw 
down  their  arms  and  try  to  surrender. 

One  Mexican  lieutenant  showed  extraordinary  bra 
very.  His  name  was  Barragan,  —  a  son  of  the  com 
mander  of  the  Mexican  force.  Backing  against  a  wall, 
he  brandished  his  sword  aloft,  and  refused  to  sur 
render  except  to  an  officer.  Six  Texans  surrounded 
him  and  thrust  bayonets  at  his  breast,  but  he  kept  his 


240        FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

arm  in  motion  and  successfully  parried  every  thrust. 
His  sabre  was  moved  about  with  such  rapidity  that 
it  could  hardly  be  seen. 

At  this  time  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace  came  up. 
"  Here,"  cried  a  Texan,  "  you  shoot  this  fellow,  '  Big 
Foot.'  He  deserves  death." 

But  the  lanky  Texan  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  said 
he.  "  This  man  deserves  better  treatment,  for  he  is 
a  brave  soldier.  I  refuse  to  shoot  him." 

"  Let  me  see  your  Captain,"  cried  the  Mexican. 
"  To  him  I  will  surrender  my  sword." 

Captain  Cameron  came  up  at  once  and  the  blade 
was  turned  over  to  him.  With  a  proud  look  the  Mex 
ican  stepped  back  and  folded  his  arms. 

"  You  are  a  brave  man,"  said  Cameron.  "  You 
must  be  our  prisoner,  but  you  will  not  be  injured." 

The  Texans  were  now  masters  of  the  situation. 
They  dictated  terms  to  their  enemies,  one  of  which 
was  that  the  wounded  should  be  well  taken  care  of. 
Meanwhile  they  prepared  for  instant  flight,  for  they 
knew  that  a  large  force  would  soon  be  on  their  trail. 
Some  of  the  Mexicans  had  tied  their  horses  near  by, 
and  these  were  at  once  seized. 

By  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  Texans  were  all 
mounted  and  set  out  for  the  Rio  Grande.  It  was 
touch  and  go  with  them.  The  chances  for  their  get 
ting  away  were  very  slight,  for  they  did  not  know 
the  country. 

"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  had  secured  a  fine  dun-col 
ored  mule  which  had  belonged  to  a  Mexican  officer. 
The  other  Texans  had  good  mounts,  and  by  midnight 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         241 

were  fifty  miles  from  the  scene  of  their  battle.  A 
short  halt  was  made  and  the  horses  were  fed.  The 
men  slept  two  hours,  and,  early  in  the  morning,  left 
the  main  road  so  as  to  go  around  the  city  of  Saltillo. 
They  soon  abandoned  the  road  for  the  mountains. 
This  was  a  fatal  mistake,  for  it  was  a  barren  waste 
with  no  water  and  no  food. 

For  six  days  the  gallant  Texans  pressed  onward. 
They  were  soon  perishing  with  thirst  and  starvation. 
So  hungry  were  they  that  horses  were  killed  and  eaten. 
The  Texans  drank  the  blood  of  their  mounts,  and, 
leaving  the  remains  of  their  slaughtered  beasts  for 
the  coyotes  and  buzzards,  they  plunged  into  the  arid, 
brown  mountains  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  reach  the  Rio 
Grande.  Many  were  on  foot.  Some  became  delirious 
and  wandered  away  to  die  in  lonely  ravines.  The 
party  became  badly  scattered.  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace 
dried  some  mule  meat  in  the  sun  and  carried  it  along 
in  a  haversack.  The  frontiersmen  toiled  onward  in 
the  direction  of  the  Rio  Grande,  but  the  Mexican  cav 
alry  was  hot  upon  their  trail. 

Finally  the  yellow-skinned  soldiers  of  the  country 
began  to  come  up  with  the  half -dead  Texans  and  to 
capture  them.  The  majority  of  the  invaders  formed 
a  hollow  square  and  refused  to  surrender  unless  they 
could  do  so  as  prisoners  of  war.  They  were  hollow- 
cheeked,  sunken-eyed  and  half  alive,  yet  they  cried 
out  that  they  would  fight  unless  granted  an  honorable 
surrender.  The  Mexicans  were  well  mounted  and 
well  fed.  They  had  the  Rangers  at  their  mercy,  yet 
they  granted  them  what  they  asked  for.  Of  one  hun- 


242        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

dred  and  ninety-three  Texans  who  had  made  their 
escape,  five  died  of  thirst  and  starvation,  four  got 
through  to  Texas,  and  three  were  never  heard  of 
again. 

The  Texans  were  tied  together  with  ropes  and  were 
marched  in  a  single  line  to  Saltillo.  When  they  were 
brought  into  the  city  an  order  was  received  from 
Santa  Anna  to  have  them  shot.  The  Mexican  officer 
in  charge  of  the  prisoners  refused  to  comply,  and 
said  that  he  would  resign  his  commission  before  he 
would  do  so.  The  British  consul  also  interfered,  so 
the  poor  Texans  were  allowed  to  go  on  to  Solado, 
where  they  had  had  their  fierce  battle  for  freedom. 
They  were  placed  in  irons.  As  they  reached  the  town 
an  order  came  from  Santa  Anna  to  have  every  tenth 
man  shot. 

When  the  prisoners  arrived  at  the  jail  from  which 
they  had  so  gloriously  escaped,  some  Mexicans  were 
seen  digging  a  ditch.  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace  nudged 
a  companion.  "  That  ditch  is  for  us !  "  said  he.  He 
was  quite  right. 

The  Mexican  officers  now  decided  to  let  the  pris 
oners  draw  lots  in  order  to  see  who  should,  and  who 
should  not  be,  shot.  A  large  jar  was  filled  with  beans : 
as  many  beans  as  Texans.  White  and  black  beans 
were  there.  The  white  ones  meant  life ;  the  black,  — 
death.  There  were  nine  white  beans  to  one  black. 

The  Texans  were  now  marched  out  from  their  jail 
and  were  formed  in  a  long  line.  An  officer  soon  ap 
proached  with  the  jar  in  his  hand,  in  which  were  one 
hundred  and  fifty-nine  white  beans  and  seventeen  black 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         243 

ones.  The  poor  Texans  were  to  pass  through  a  fear 
ful  ordeal,  but  they  were  all  gamblers  with  life,  so 
they  took  it  philosophically.  Soldiers  will  rush  to 
almost  certain  death  in  the  excitement  of  battle,  but 
to  stand  and  decide  one's  fate  by  the  drawing  of  a 
bean  is  worse  than  charging  upon  a  spitting  can 
non. 

The  Mexican  officers  were  very  anxious  to  kill  Cap 
tain  Cameron,  the  gallant  leader  of  the  gaunt  and 
half-starved  Texans.  They  were  therefore  in  great 
hopes  that  he  would  draw  a  black  bean,  and,  for  this 
reason,  placed  black  beans  on  top,  within  the  jar.  He 
was  also  requested  to  draw  first. 

But  one  of  the  captives  —  a  fellow  named  "  Bill  " 
Wilson  —  saw  the  trick,  and,  as  Cameron  placed  his 
hand  in  the  jar,  the  Ranger  called  out :  "  Dip  deep, 
Captain !  Dip  deep !  " 

Cameron  followed  his  advice,  ran  his  fingers  to  the 
bottom,  and  pulled  out  a  white  bean.  A  look  of  sat 
isfaction  passed  over  the  faces  of  the  Texans,  for  they 
all  loved  the  brave  and  unselfish  Captain.  The  Mex 
icans  scowled  as  the  drawing  went  rapidly  on. 

All  "  dipped  deep  "  and  it  was  thus  some  time  before 
a  black  bean  was  pulled  forth.  The  Texans  knew  that 
some  of  them  would  be  compelled  to  draw  the  black 
beans,  but  they  grinned  with  delight  as  friend  after 
friend  extracted  a  white  bean  from  the  fateful  jar. 
Most  of  the  scouts  showed  the  utmost  coolness.  One 
noted  gambler  from  Austin,  Texas,  stepped  up  to  the 
jar  with  a  smile,  saying:  "Boys,  this  is  the  largest 
stake  that  I  ever  played  for ! "  When  he  drew  out 


244        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

his  hand  a  black  bean  was  between  thumb  and  fore 
finger.  Without  changing  the  smile  on  his  face,  he 
muttered :  "  Just  my  luck !  Good-by  to  dear,  old 
Texas!" 

One  young  fellow,  almost  a  boy,  drew  a  black  bean, 
and  giving  one  appealing  look  at  his  comrades,  cried 
out: 

"  Boys,  avenge  my  death  on  these  hounds !  " 

As  the  drawing  progressed,  some  of  the  petty  Mex 
ican  officers  did  all  in  their  power  to  annoy  the  pris 
oners.  When  one  would  draw  a  black  bean  they 
would  express  great  sorrow,  and  would  say :  "  Cheer 
up!  Better  luck  next  time!"  although  they  knew 
that  this  was  the  last  chance  which  the  poor  fellow 
would  ever  have. 

One  witty  Texan  cried  out,  when  his  time  came  to 
draw : 

"  Boys,  I  had  rather  draw  for  a  Spanish  horse  and 
lose  him !  "  He  drew  a  white  bean. 

The  time  approached  for  "Big  Foot  "  Wallace  to 
have  his  turn,  for  the  men  drew  in  alphabetical  order, 
and  W  was  well  down  upon  the  list.  The  boys  were 
"  dipping  deep  "  and  nearly  all  of  the  white  beans  had 
been  dipped  out.  As  "  Big  Foot "  reached  into  the 
jar  there  were  about  an  equal  number  of  black  beans 
and  white.  His  hand  was  so  large  that  he  had  diffi 
culty  in  squeezing  it  down  to  £he  beans. 

The  wily  Ranger  was  under  the  impression  that  the 
black  beans  were  a  little  larger  than  the  white  ones, 
so  he  scooped  up  two  against  the  side  of  the  vessel, 
and,  getting  them  between  his  fingers,  felt  them  with 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         245 

great  care.  The  Mexicans  were  watching  him  very 
closely.  "Hurry  up!"  cried  one.  "If  you  pull  out 
two  beans  and  one  of  them  is  a  black  one,  you  will 
have  to  take  the  black." 

"  Big  Foot "  paid  no  attention  to  this  remark.  Life 
was  now  at  stake.  He  deliberately  felt  the  beans  for 
some  time  and  one  seemed  to  be  larger  than  the  other. 
He  let  it  go,  drew  out  his  hand,  and  breathed  easier. 
He  had  drawn  out  a  white  bean.  The  next  two  men 
drew  black. 

The  black  beans  had  now  all  been  extracted,  and 
the  last  three  Texans  did  not  draw.  An  officer  turned 
up  the  jar  and  three  white  beans  fell  to  the  ground. 
The  condemned  men  were  then  placed  in  a  row  and 
the  firing  squad  was  detailed  and  counted  off. 

The  irons  were  now  taken  from  the  unfortunate 
Texans  and  they  were  led  away  to  execution,  bidding 
their  more  fortunate  companions  good-by,  as  they 
moved  off.  Tears  were  running  down  the  cheeks  of 
the  emaciated  Texans  as  they  bade  their  comrades  a 
last  adieu.  A  man  named  Whaling  asked  not  to  be 
blindfolded,  saying  that  he  wished  to  look  the  man 
in  the  face  that  shot  him,  and  show  them  how  a  Texan 
could  die.  His  request  was  refused. 

The  bold  and  intrepid  Texan  Rangers  were  now 
ready  for  execution.  All  were  blindfolded,  a  sharp 
order  rang  out,  and  the  crash  of  muskets  woke  the 
echoes  of  the  high  adobe  walls  of  the  quaint,  rambling 
prison.  Without  a  sound  the  condemned  Texans  fell 
to  the  ground,  all  of  them  dead  save  one.  This  man 
—  a  fellow  named  Shephard  —  was  wounded  in  the 


246        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

shoulder,  although  a  Mexican  musket  was  within  a 
few  feet  of  him  when  it  had  been  fired.  He  feigned 
death,  so  that  he  was  able  to  crawl  off  and  escape  to 
the  mountains  after  the  Mexicans  had  gone  away. 
But  the  men  of  the  south  discovered  that  one  of  their 
victims  had  disappeared  when  they  came  to  remove 
the  bodies  to  the  ditch  which  had  been  prepared  for 
them.  Scouts  were  sent  out  in  every  direction  to  hunt 
for  the  missing  corpse.  In  ten  days  the  Ranger  was 
retaken  and  was  shot. 

The  survivors  —  in  irons  —  were  started  on  foot 
for  the  City  of  Mexico.  They  were  half  starved. 
They  were  derided,  hooted  at,  and  beaten  by  the  pop 
ulace.  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace  suffered  terribly,  for 
the  shackles  were  too  small  and  cut  deep  into  the  flesh. 
His  arms  became  badly  swollen. 

When  the  poor  prisoners  arrived  at  San  Louis 
Potosi,  the  Governor's  wife  came  to  look  at  the  half- 
fed  men  and  particularly  noted  the  condition  of  Wal 
lace.  Her  sympathies  were  at  once  aroused  and  she 
ordered  the  chains  to  be  taken  off.  The  officer  who 
commanded  the  Mexican  troops  refused  to  do  so, 
saying  that  only  the  Governor  had  authority  to  give 
such  an  order. 

"  I  am  the  Governor's  wife,"  replied  the  woman. 
"  I  command  you  —  in  his  name  —  to  take  off  these 
terrible  bands." 

To  this  the  soldier  consented.  Sending  for  a  black 
smith,  he  had  the  shackles  removed.  The  Governor's 
wife  bathed  the  swollen  arms  of  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace 
with  her  own  hands. 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         247 

"  You  should  be  President  of  Mexico/'  said  the 
half -dead  Ranger. 

The  prisoners  were  marched  onward  and  soon  ar 
rived  at  an  Indian  village  about  eighteen  miles  from 
the  City  of  Mexico.  Here  an  order  came  from  Santa 
Anna  to  shoot  Captain  Ewing  Cameron.  He  had 
drawn  a  white  bean,  but  the  Mexican  leader  did  not 
respect  his  former  decision.  The  order  was  kept  a 
secret  from  the  balance  of  the  prisoners  out  of  fear 
that  they  would  make  a  demonstration.  That  night 
Cameron  was  put  in  a  room  alone,  with  a  separate 
guard.  The  rest  of  the  prisoners  suspected  some 
treachery  and  were  fearful  of  the  fate  of  their  brave 
leader. 

Next  morning,  when  they  were  all  marched  out, 
each  Texan  filled  his  shirt  full  of  rocks,  determined 
to  die  for  their  captain  if  need  be. 

"  Why  are  you  getting  those  rocks  ? "  asked  the 
guards. 

"  It  is  for  ballast,"  replied  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace. 
"  We  want  to  walk  better." 

The  Mexican  soldiers  made  no  attempt  to  take  the 
stones  away.  They  were  probably  afraid  to  do  so, 
as  they  saw  a  desperate  look  upon  the  faces  of  the 
Rangers.  As  they  marched  on,  the  prisoners  fre 
quently  inquired  about  Cameron  and  wanted  to  know 
if  he  were  going  to  be  shot. 

"No!  No!"  replied  the  Mexicans.  "Go  on! 
Your  Captain  will  soon  be  with  you !  " 

Somewhat  reassured,  the  Rangers  went  forward, 
but,  when  they  were  about  a  mile  from  the  town,  they 


248        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

heard  a  platoon  of  soldiers  fire  their  muskets  in  their 
rear.  Some  one  cried  out :  "  Brave  Cameron  has  been 
massacred,  boys !  A  finer  man  never  breathed !  " 

It  was  only  too  true.  The  patriotic  Texan  had  met 
his  death  unflinchingly,  —  a  victim  of  the  treachery 
of  the  wily  Santa  Anna. 

Texas  was  then  an  independent  Republic,  for  it  had 
not  yet  been  admitted  into  the  Union.  The  United 
States  had  nothing  to  do  with  protecting  the  citizens 
of  Texas,  and  the  young  Republic  did  not  have  forces 
enough  to  invade  Mexico  with  an  army,  so  as  to  res 
cue  these  unfortunate  men.  The  British  consul,  how 
ever,  had  a  good  deal  to  say  about  the  killing  of  Cam 
eron,  and  had  a  personal  interview  with  Santa  Anna 
regarding  it.  He  severely  condemned  this  cruel  pro 
cedure. 

The  Rangers  were  now  closely  confined  in  a  mis 
erable  dungeon.  Many  went  insane  and  died. 
Twenty-four  succeeded  in  digging  their  way  out, 
underneath  the  wall.  Four  scaled  over  the  high 
enclosure  and  made  their  way  back  to  Texas  in  safety. 
"  Big  Foot  "  Wallace,  himself,  had  a  fit  of  temporary 
insanity,  but  he  recovered  and  managed  to  live  through 
the  months  of  terrible  imprisonment.  The  Texans 
were  so  badly  fed  that  they  caught  the  rats  which  ran 
across  the  dungeon  floor  and  ate  them.  Meanwhile 
Santa  Anna's  wife  was  continually  pleading  with  her 
husband  to  liberate  the  miserable  men.  The  stern 
dictator  was  greatly  attached  to  her,  and  would  grant 
almost  anything  that  she  asked. 

Friends  of  the  Texans  were  using  their  best  en- 


"BIG   FOOT'    WALLACE         249 

deavors  to  have  the  prisoners  released.  Through  the 
influence  of  his  father  and  Governor  McDowell  of 
Virginia,  "  Big  Foot "  Wallace  was  finally  set  free. 
Upon  the  fifth  day  of  August,  1844,  he  and  four 
others  were  allowed  to  go,  after  an  imprisonment  of 
twenty-two  months.  Upon  the  same  day  the  good 
wife  of  Santa  Anna  died,  —  regretted  and  beloved  by 
every  Texan  who  had  worn  the  chains  of  Mexico. 
Soon  afterwards  an  order  came  to  set  free  the  re 
mainder  of  the  Texans,  for  Santa  Anna  had  prom 
ised  his  wife  —  on  her  death-bed  —  that  he  would 
release  them.  To  his  honor  be  it  said  that  he  kept 
his  promise. 

The  intrepid  "  Big  Foot "  was,  of  course,  delighted 
with  his  freedom.  Taking  ship  at  Vera  Cruz,  he  soon 
reached  New  Orleans,  and  from  there  found  his  way 
back  to  his  old  cabin  upon  the  Medina  River.  Many 
settlers  had  taken  up  ranches  near  by,  so  he  was  no 
longer  alone.  Still  the  Indians  were  very  thick,  and 
there  were  frequent  brushes  with  the  wild  riders  of 
the  plains. 

One  day  —  near  Fort  Inge  —  the  pioneer  discov 
ered  the  track  of  the  famous  Big  Foot  Indian,  where 
he  and  six  followers  had  crossed  the  road.  The  old 
fellow's  footprint  was  fourteen  inches  in  length,  and, 
as  he  had  seen  it  several  times  before,  the  plainsman 
knew  that  there  was  trouble  in  the  wind.  When  he 
reached  the  fort,  he  found  a  friend  of  his  named  West- 
fall. 

"  That  Big  Foot  redskin  is  around,"  said  he.  "  This 
means  horse  stealing.  If  the  old  cuss  does  get  your 


250        FAMOUS   FEONTIBESMEN 

stock,  just  let  me  know  and  I  will  join  you  in  a  little 
Injun  round-up." 

"All  right,"  Westfall  replied.  "If  I  need  you, 
I  will  let  you  know." 

As  Wallace  expected,  in  three  or  four  days  a  Ranger 
came  after  him  with  the  information  that  all  of  West- 
fall's  horses  had  been  stolen  and  that  he  was  needed 
—  very  badly  needed  —  to  assist  in  their  recapture. 
The  Indians  had  ridden  up  the  Nueces  Canyon  to  its 
source,  and  then  had  crossed  over  to  the  headwaters 
of  the  South  Llano,  where  they  had  gone  into  camp 
in  a  dense  cedar  grove.  They  thought  that  they  had 
captured  all  of  the  white  men's  horses,  and  so  would 
not  be  followed.  As  they  had  shot  a  small  bear,  they 
proceeded  to  cook  it  over  a  glowing  fire. 

But  the  redskins  did  not  remember  that  the  white 
settlers  had  some  very  good  mules,  which  they  had 
not  captured.  On  these  the  Texans  followed  the 
Indian  trail,  and  soon  located  the  redskin  encampment 
by  the  smoke  from  the  fire.  Westfall  rested,  but  did 
not  cook  anything.  He  was  waiting  for  morning, 
before  making  the  attack. 

As  day  dawned,  the  plainsman  crept  towards  the 
Indian  camp;  accompanied  by  a  youth  named  Pres 
ton  Polly.  The  other  men  —  four  in  number  —  were 
told  to  come  on  when  they  heard  his  gun.  At  first 
the  two  whites  descended  into  the  bed  of  a  gorge  to 
a  point  opposite  the  camp  of  the  famous  Big  Foot 
Indian.  When  nearing  the  smoke  from  the  fire,  a 
trail  was  discovered,  which  led  down  the  hill  to  a  pool 
of  water  fed  by  two  deep  springs.  Below  the  pool 


"BIG   FOOT'     WALLACE         251 

was  some  rank,  coarse  grass.  Westfall  and  the  boy 
halted  in  this. 

Suddenly,  as  he  peered  beneath  some  bushes,  West- 
fall  saw  an  Indian  coming  towards  the  pool  of  water. 
He  was  mounted  upon  a  pie-bald  pony,  and  was  a  tall, 
well-formed  brave.  The  plainsman  lay  still,  scarcely 
daring  to  breathe.  Silently  he  cocked  his  rifle  and 
kept  his  eyes  upon  the  savage. 

In  a  few  moments  the  Indian  came  into  full  view. 
The  heart  of  the  plainsman  beat  quickly,  for  before 
him  was  the  terrible  Big  Foot:  his  face  all  daubed 
up  with  vermilion  paint,  and  eagle  feathers  in  his 
scalp-lock.  Motioning  to  the  boy  to  remain  absolutely 
quiet,  Westfall  slowly  raised  his  rifle.  At  this  moment 
the  horse  discovered  the  ambushed  marksman  and 
snorted.  Big  Foot  turned  quickly  in  order  to  see 
what  was  the  matter  and  was  for  a  moment  sta 
tionary.  Bang!  The  burly  chieftain  —  the  scourge 
and  terror  of  the  border  —  pitched  forward  upon 
his  face.  He  had  been  shot  clean  through  the 
heart. 

True  to  their  orders  to  approach  when  they  heard 
the  discharge  of  a  rifle,  the  other  men  came  up  quickly, 
on  the  run.  They  charged  up  the  hill,  past  the  body 
of  the  dead  chief,  and  into  the  camp  of  the  red  men. 
The  Indians  had  gone,  but  the  stolen  horses  were  all 
in  camp,  except  those  ridden  away  by  the  redskins. 
The  pioneers  ate  a  good  portion  of  the  bear  meat, 
which  was  fat,  juicy,  and  well  roasted. 

When  they  examined  the  big  chief,  they  found  that 
he  was  indeed  the  giant  of  a  man,  for  he  was  seven 


252        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

feet  tall  and  weighed  about  three  hundred  pounds. 
His  hand  clutched  the  bridle-reins  so  firmly  that  his 
pony  was  unable  to  pull  away  from  him.  His  hair 
was  fully  a  yard  in  length  and  he  had  strong  arms  and 
legs.  Upon  his  right  knee  was  the  mark  of  a  bullet 
where  he  had  been  wounded  some  years  before.  The 
white  men  took  his  moccasins  in  order  to  prove  that 
it  was  the  real  Big  Foot;  rounded  up  their  horses; 
and  were  soon  travelling  back  to  their  ranches.  The 
great  chief  was  buried  without  ceremony. 

"  Big  Foot "  Wallace  was  shortly  afterwards  com 
missioned  by  the  Governor  of  Texas  to  raise  a  com 
pany  of  Rangers  for  frontier  defense.  He  was  made 
Captain  and  appointed  his  friend  Westfall  a  Lieuten 
ant.  They  were  soon  to  see  plenty  of  stiff  fight 
ing. 

The  hardest  battle  which  they  engaged  in  was  on 
Todos  Santos  (All  Saints)  Creek,  at  a  place  called 
the  Black  Hills,  sixteen  miles  from  the  town  of  Co- 
tulla.  Eighty  redskins  were  near  this  spot,  and  had 
camped  near  a  waterhole,  which  the  whites  wished  to 
get  to,  as  they  had  been  three  days  without  water. 
The  plainsmen  had  come  through  prickly  pear  and 
catclaw  bushes  only  to  find  the  Indians  in  their  path. 
A  stiff  fight  ensued.  The  Rangers  circled  around  the 
savages  for  over  an  hour,  and,  after  they  had  wounded 
a  good  many,  charged  the  remainder.  There  was 
hand-to-hand  fighting,  but  the  red  men  were  finally 
driven  away,  leaving  twenty-two  of  their  number  dead 
upon  the  ground,  among  whom  was  their  chief.  "  Big 
Foot "  Wallace  had  dispatched  him  with  a  rifle,  which 


"  BIG   FOOT  '     WALLACE         253 

had  been  presented  to  him  by  Colonel  James  Bowie, 
from  whom  the  bowie  knife  took  its  name. 

The  redoubtable  Wallace  was  one  of  the  first  to  en 
list  in  the  Mexican  War  of  1846,  and  served  under  the 
famous  Texan  Jack  Hays.  The  war,  as  you  know, 
was  brought  on  by  a  dispute  over  the  boundary-line 
between  Mexico  and  the  United  States,  and,  as  many 
of  the  Rangers  had  old  scores  to  settle  with  the  Mexi 
cans,  they  did  good  service  in  the  campaign  which 
ended  in  the  capture  of  the  City  of  Mexico.  "  Big 
Foot"  Wallace  was  a  second  Lieutenant  and  acquitted 
himself  nobly,  particularly  in  the  storming  of  Monte 
rey,  where  he  captured  the  very  officer  who  had  held 
the  fatal  bean-pot  when  the  Texans  were  drawing  for 
their  lives  at  Solado.  To  his  credit  be  it  said  that  he 
let  the  fellow  go. 

The  famous  plainsman  never  married,  although  he 
was  once  engaged  to  a  belle  of  Austin,  Texas.  He 
was  taken  ill,  shortly  after  pledging  his  troth,  and  had 
the  misfortune  to  lose  all  of  his  hair.  As  soon  as  he 
was  able  to  travel,  he  left  town  and  hid  himself  in  a 
cave  in  the  mountains.  Here  he  resided  until  his  hair 
grew  out  again.  Meanwhile  his  sweetheart  had  grown 
tired  of  waiting  for  him  and  had  married  another  man. 
As  she  turned  out  to  be  a  terrible  scold,  he  was  lucky. 

The  old  scout  was  the  proud  possessor  of  four  dogs 
— half-bred  specimens — which  he  prized  very  highly. 
He  called  them  Rock,  Ring,  Speck  and  Bias,  and  was 
particularly  fond  of  Rock,  who  was  so  well  trained 
that  he  could  follow  an  Indian  by  his  scent.  Wallace 
could  always  tell  by  the  dog's  actions  when  Indians 


254        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

were  around,  and,  when  night  came,  would  feel  per 
fectly  secure  when  his  pets  were  on  guard  near  by. 
The  faithful  animals  would  lie  near  him  and  would 
make  no  noise  unless  some  wild  man,  or  still  wilder 
animal,  approached. 

One  morning  Rock  gave  unmistakable  signs  that 
Indians  were  near  by,  so  the  scout  took  his  gun  in 
order  to  watch  for  the  redskins.  As  none  put  in  an 
appearance,  he  told  his  dogs  to  "  go  on  and  find." 
They  rushed  forward,  yelping,  and  he  soon  heard 
them  baying  loudly.  Coming  to  the  spot,  he  saw  an 
Indian  down  in  a  gully  with  the  dogs  around  him. 
They  were  endeavoring  to  bite  him,,  but  he  kept  them 
from  seizing  him  by  throwing  his  blanket  over  their 
heads.  Wallace  raised  his  gun  to  fire,  but,  seeing  that 
the  poor  redskin  was  afraid,  he  lowered  his  piece. 
Then,  calling  his  pets  to  his  side,  he  made  signs  to 
the  Indian  to  come  towards  him. 

When  the  redskin  approached,  "  Big  Foot "  saw 
that  he  was  unarmed,  save  for  a  small  knife  which 
he  held  in  his  right  hand.  This  was  broken  in  two. 

"  I  have  been  a  captive  among  the  Comanches," 
said  the  red  man.  "  I  have  had  nothing  to  kill  game 
with  and  am  nearly  starved.  Pray  give  me  something 
to  eat,  Sefior.  I  broke  my  knife  while  trying  to  open 
a  terrapin." 

The  old  scout's  heart  was  touched  by  the  sad  spec 
tacle  before  him.  He  took  pity  on  the  poor  savage, 
and,  leading  him  to  his  cabin,  there  gave  him  all  that 
he  could  eat.  He  then  turned  him  over  to  the  Indian 
agent  at  San  Antonio.  This  shows  that,  although 


"BIG   FOOT'    WALLACE         255 

keen  in  pursuing  hostile  redskins,  the  famous  Ranger 
could  be  also  kind  and  gentle  to  the  unfortunate. 

The  fame  of  "  Big  Foot  "  Wallace  was  great  among 
the  pioneers  of  Texas ;  so  great,  in  fact,  that  when  he 
appeared  at  the  Dallas  fair  in  1898,  hundreds  crowded 
around  him  in  order  to  take  his  hand  and  talk  with 
the  famous  scout.  All  had  heard  of  the  giant  plains 
man  and  wanted  to  see  him.  Shortly  after  Christmas, 
of  this  year,  he  caught  a  heavy  cold,  and  died  on  the 
seventh  of  January,  1899,  m  h^s  eighty-third  year. 
To  the  very  end  his  eyesight  was  so  keen  that  he  had 
no  need  of  glasses,  and  he  was  apparently  hale  and 
hearty  up  to  the  last.  Thus  peacefully  closed  the 
career  of  one  of  the  most  adventurous  men  who  ever 
hunted,  fished,  and  fought  the  red  men  and  Mexicans 
upon  the  wide  plains  of  Texas. 

Although  buried  in  Medina  County,  where  he  had 
built  his  first  log  cabin,  shortly  after  his  death,  a  bill 
was  passed  in  the  legislature,  so  that  his  remains 
were  taken  up  and  were  deposited  in  the  State  ceme 
tery  at  Austin.  This  was  a  city  which  he  had  helped 
to  build.  He  had  also  assisted  in  the  construction  of 
the  first  well  which  had  been  sunk  there.  He  had 
been  among  those  who  had  killed  the  last  herd  of 
buffalo  on  the  plains  near  by. 

Here  —  in  the  peace  of  the  rolling  plain  —  lies 
the  last  of  the  Great  Captains  of  those  gallant  Ran 
gers  of  the  Texan  prairie.  His  spirit  slumbers  where 
the  coyote  and  Indian  once  followed  the  dun-colored 
herds  of  buffalo,  and  where  —  in  the  blue  azure  of 
the  cloudless  sky  —  the  wheeling  vulture  watched  the 


256        FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

canvas-covered  wagons  of  the  emigrant  trains,  which 
brought  a  people  who  were  to  construct  great  and 
populous  cities,  where  was  then  only  dust  and  deso 
lation. 


CAPTAIN    JACK     HAYS: 

FAMOUS    TEXAN    RANGER    AND 

COMMANDER    OF   VALIANT 

BORDER    FIGHTERS 

IT  was  the  year  1840.  Texas  was  still  a  wild 
country,  but  the  white  settlers  were  pressing  for 
ward  to  farm  and  to  raise  cattle  and  horses.  The 
redskins  did  not  like  it.  The  Comanches  were  partic 
ularly  troublesome :  they  had  been  severely  chastised 
by  General  Burleson  and  a  Colonel  John  H.  More,  so 
they  had  sworn  to  revenge  themselves  upon  the  white- 
skinned  invaders.  With  a  large  body  of  painted  war 
riors  they  made  a  raid  upon  the  defenseless  settlers  of 
Texas.  They  sacked  and  burned  the  town  of  Linn- 
ville,  partly  destroyed  Victoria,  and  commenced  their 
retreat  back  to  the  mountains  with  a  great  deal  of 
plunder.  There  were  six  hundred  warriors  and  many 
squaws  in  the  party  of  invasion. 

In  going  down  from  the  mountains  the  Indians  had 
kept  between  the  rivers,  where  there  were  no  settle 
ments,  and  consequently  they  were  not  discovered 
until  a  short  time  before  the  attack  upon  Linnville. 
Runners  were  immediately  sent  to  the  various  settle 
ments,  and  men  began  to  cut  across  the  country  in 
small  squads  from  the  valleys  of  the  Colorado,  the 
Guadalupe,  and  San  Marcos.  All  of  them  were  excited 
'  257 


258        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

and  eager  for  revenge,  none  more  so  than  General 
Burleson,  who  —  at  the  head  of  a  large  company  — 
was  just  starting  for  the  scene  of  action.  When  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men  had  arrived  —  among  them 
settlers  from  Guadalupe  and  San  Marcos  —  they 
started  for  the  Indians. 

Among  those  who  came  riding  to  the  defense  of 
the  Texan  frontier  was  a  splendid  looking,  young  fel 
low,  who  was  the  perfect  picture  of  manly  vigor. 
Clad  in  blue  shirt,  buckskin  chaparejos  (large  trousers 
slipping  over  those  usually  worn)  and  high-heeled 
boots,  the  youthful  Texan  was  a  noble  example  of 
health  and  agility.  A  broad  sombrero  w<as  upon  his 
head,  while  a  cartridge-belt  hung  about  his  supple 
waist.  His  name  was  John  Coffee  Hays;  better 
known  as  Jack  Hays :  the  Ranger. 

This  celebrated  scout  and  Indian  fighter  had  been 
named  after  General  Coffee,  who  commanded  a  bri 
gade  in  the  army  of  General  Jackson,  at  the  battle  of 
New  Orleans.  He  had  been  born  in  Wilson  County, 
Tennessee,  in  1818,  but  had  come  to  Texas  in  1837, 
when  but  nineteen  years  of  age.  A  surveyor  by  pro 
fession,  he  had  taken  up  a  residence  at  San  Antonio, 
where  he  was  employed  to  measure  lands  upon  the 
frontier.  His  life  in  the  open  had  given  him  a  hardy 
constitution,  and  no  one  could  endure  more  hardships 
or  privations  than  he.  His  talent  as  a  commander 
and  director  of  rough-and-ready  fighters  early  devel 
oped,  and  he  was  soon  among  the  leaders  of  the  bor 
derers  in  Southwest  Texas. 

With  a  wild  hurrah,  which  spelled  REVENGE,  in 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  259 

large  letters,  the  Texans  started  after  the  Indians,  and, 
after  travelling  for  nine  miles  upon  their  broad  trail, 
caught  up  with  them  near  a  winding  stream  called 
Plum  Creek.  Two  redskins  had  been  left  by  the  in 
vaders  as  spies.  They  were  upon  a  ridge  and  sat 
quietly  upon  their  horses,  watching  the  approach  of  the 
white  men,  until  the  Texans  were  almost  within  gun 
shot.  Both  of  these  Indians  had  on  tall  hats  which 
they  had  obtained  at  the  looting  of  Linnville.  You  can 
well  imagine  how  comical  they  looked,  for  a  black, 
stovepipe  hat  hardly  becomes  a  wild  rider  of  the  plains. 
With  his  thick,  long  hair  it  never  quite  fits,  and  it 
certainly  gives  the  red  man  a  most  grotesque  appear 
ance. 

One  of  the  Texan  Rangers  had  a  long-range  gun. 
Dismounting,  he  cried  out : 

"  Boys !    Just  watch  me  make  the  redskins  hump !  " 

At  the  crack  of  his  rifle,  the  Indians  wheeled  their 
horses  in  order  to  run  away.  As  they  did  so,  both  lost 
their  plug  hats.  They  moved  swiftly  to  their  com 
rades,  warning  them  of  the  approach  of  the  Rangers, 
who  spread  out  in  a  fan-shaped  line,  and  kept  on  after 
the  retreating  braves. 

Now  began  a  hot  fight.  The  redskins  were  well 
armed  and  made  a  good  showing,  but  nothing  could 
withstand  the  terrible  fire  of  the  Texan  rifles.  After 
an  hour  of  rapid  shooting  the  Rangers  charged  with 
a  wild,  ear-splitting  whoop.  Jack  Hays  was  well  up 
in  front  of  the  line  as  they  did  so.  The  Indians  broke 
and  galloped  away  in  a  disorganized  mass. 

Many  of  the  redskins  had  on  fine  coats  and  boots 


260        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

which  they  had  stolen  during  the  raid.  Some  of 
them  even  carried  umbrellas.  Their  spare  horses  and 
mules  were  packed  with  stolen  goods,  and  these  were 
driven  ahead  by  the  squaws,  while  the  warriors  fought 
the  battle.  After  about  a  mile  of  fighting,  the  Co- 
manches  rallied  in  large  force  and  a  sharp  contest  en 
sued.  But  they  could  not  stand  the  accurate  rifle-fire 
from  the  Texans,  and  again  fled  in  a  scattered  mass. 

The  pursuit  continued  in  hot  haste,  for  some  high 
mountains  were  in  front,  and  the  Rangers  knew  that 
if  the  red  men  once  reached  them  it  would  be  quite 
possible  for  them  to  get  away.  Many  of  the  pack- 
animals  now  gave  out,  were  abandoned,  and  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Texans.  A  boggy  branch  was  in  the 
path  of  the  retreating  braves.  Several  of  the  Indian 
ponies  stuck  fast  in  the  mire :  all  of  the  pack-animals 
which  had  not  yet  been  captured,  became  hard  aground 
in  the  mud.  The  hindmost  Indians  used  some  of  the 
poor,  bogged  animals  as  pontoons,  and  passed  over 
the  marsh  by  jumping  from  body  to  body.  The  Tex 
ans  saw  the  predicament  which  the  redskins  were  in 
and  ran  around  the  branch  to  the  other  side,  where 
they  cut  off  some  of  the  Indians  who  were  on  foot, 
and  killed  them.  The  rest  got  away  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountains,  where  the  pursuit  ended. 

The  Rangers  collected  at  the  spot  where  the  fight 
had  been  most  severe  and  where  most  of  the  Indians 
had  been  dispatched.  Here  they  camped  for  the 
night.  Some  of  the  Texans  had  been  wounded,  but 
none  had  been  killed.  Thus  the  battle  of  Plum  Creek 
came  to  a  glorious  end. 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  261 

Jack  Hays  had  certainly  distinguished  himself  in 
this  affair.  He  distinguished  himself  still  more  in 
1842,  when  San  Antonio  was  captured  by  the  Mexi 
cans.  Shortly  after  the  battle  of  Plum  Creek,  Jack 
had  been  commissioned  by  General  Houston  to  raise 
a  force  for  protection  of  the  frontier.  He  had  no 
difficulty  in  doing  this  and  was  soon  in  command 
of  several  hundred  Texan  Rangers.  They  were 
wild  fellows;  ready  for  any  emergency  that  might 
arise. 

The  Mexicans  had  about  fifteen  hundred  men  in 
San  Antonio.  They  were  commanded  by  a  General 
Wall.  Jack  Hays  and  his  Rangers  rode  up  near  the 
town  and  "  dared  "  the  Mexicans  to  come  out  and 
fight.  This  they  were  quite  willing  to  do,  and  soon 
marched  from  the  adobe  huts  of  San  Antonio,  crossed 
a  creek  in  order  to  face  the  Texans,  planted  cannon, 
and  the  battle  commenced.  The  Rangers  acted  upon 
the  defensive,  dodged  the  limbs  of  the  pecan  trees 
which  the  whistling  bullets  began  to  cut  off,  and 
prepared  to  meet  the  Mexicans  when  they  should 
charge. 

General  Wall,  the  Mexican  leader,  thought  to  rout 
the  Texans  with  his  artillery  fire,  but,  as  he  failed 
to  do  this,  he  made  preparations  to  charge  them. 
Cavalry  was  dispatched  across  the  creek  in  order  to 
cut  off  retreat  upon  this  side,  and  a  band  of  Cherokee 
Indians  were  posted  upon  a  branch  below.  The  Mexi 
cans  believed  that  they  would  have  an  easy  time  of 
it,  but  they  little  thought  with  what  kind  of  men  they 
had  to  deal.  Before  them  were  expert  riflemen :  all 


262        FAMOUS   FEONTIEKSMEN 

keen  shots  and  frontier  fighters.  They  made  a  good 
account  of  themselves. 

The  bugles  sounded  the  charge  and  the  Mexicans 
came  on  in  fine  style.  They  were  massed  together 
densely,  and,  for  a  time,  it  looked  as  if  the  Rangers 
would  be  annihilated  by  mere  force  of  numbers.  But 
the  Texans  lay  down  behind  the  creek  bank,  and 
poured  such  a  volley  of  death  and  destruction  into 
the  ranks  of  the  oncoming  foe  that  their  formation 
was  broken  up  and  they  retreated  in  confusion  and 
disorder  to  their  batteries,  posted  upon  elevated 
ground.  A  company  of  their  cavalry  also  charged, 
but  the  horses  would  not  come  on  before  the  sheet  of 
lead  which  the  Rangers  pumped  into  them.  Many 
lost  their  riders  and  ran  among  the  infantrymen, 
knocking  them  down  as  they  galloped  wildly  about. 
The  Rangers  cheered  loudly,  and  Captain  Jack  Hays 
grinned  from  ear  to  ear. 

As  the  Mexicans  gathered  behind  their  cannon, 
about  fifty  Texans,  under  Captain  Nicholas  Dawson, 
came  up  on  the  right  flank.  They  heard  the  sound 
of  firing  and  hurried  towards  it,  only  to  find  that  they 
had  run  into  Wall's  entire  army.  The  Mexicans  sur 
rounded  them  immediately,  and  poured  a  destructive 
fire  into  their  ranks.  What  could  fifty  do  against 
one  thousand?  Two  Texans  made  their  escape. 
About  twelve  were  captured.  The  rest  fell  before  the 
bullets  of  the  invaders.  Dawson,  himself,  was  one  of 
the  last  to  go  down. 

After  this,  the  Mexicans  seemed  to  think  that  they 
had  had  sufficient  fighting,  They  retired  towards 


CAPTAIN  JACK  HAYS  263 

San  Antonio,  followed  by  the  exultant  Texans.  Cap 
tain  Jack  Hays  with  his  Rangers  fought  the  rear 
guard  near  Hondo,  but  the  pursuit  was  soon  aban 
doned  and  the  frontiersmen  returned  to  their  homes. 
They  had  lost  less  than  one  hundred  in  killed  and 
wounded. 

The  Rangers  retreated  to  a  place  called  Somervell, 
and,  not  long  afterwards,  were  ordered  out  to  look 
for  Indians,  which  were  then  pretty  thick  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  were  doing  considerable  damage.  There 
were  between  thirty  and  forty  men  in  this  expedition, 
some  of  whom  had  just  returned  from  Mexico,  where 
they  had  participated  in  the  battle  of  Mier.  They 
moved  off  towards  the  northwest,  struck  the  Medina 
River,  and  kept  on  up  the  stream  towards  the  place 
where  now  stands  the  town  of  Bandera.  Here  they 
made  camp,  and  next  morning  turned  north  towards 
the  Bandera  Pass,  which  they  entered  at  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

The  Comanches  were  waiting  for  them.  They  had 
discovered  the  approach  of  the  Rangers  as  they  came 
through  the  open  country,  and  laid  an  ambush  for 
them  in  the  Pass.  The  famous  Bandera  Pass  is  some 
five  hundred  yards  in  length  by  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  in  breadth.  The  red  men  were  concealed 
among  the  rocks  and  gullies  on  both  sides  of  the 
gorge,  and  they  allowed  Captain  Jack  Hays  with  his 
Texan  Rangers  to  get  about  one-third  of  the  way 
through  before  they  commenced  firing  from  both  sides 
at  once.  The  Rangers  were  riding  three  abreast,  and, 
when  this  fusillade  commenced,  were  thrown  into 


264        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

momentary  confusion,  because  of  the  frightened  and 
wounded  horses,  which  endeavored  to  wheel  and  run 
back. 

"  Steady,  boys,  steady !  "  exclaimed  Captain  Jack 
Hays.  "  Get  down  from  your  horses  and  tie  them 
to  the  brush.  We  can  whip  these  infernal  redskins 
if  you  will  only  keep  cool." 

The  Comanches  greatly  outnumbered  the  Rangers. 
They  were  armed  with  rifles  and  with  bows  and  ar 
rows.  Many  came  down  the  Pass  and  rode  up  to 
close  quarters  with  the  Rangers.  Pistols  were  freely 
used  and  many  hand-to-hand  conflicts  took  place.  The 
Comanche  chief  was  struck  down  by  a  ball  from  the 
rifle  of  "  Kit "  Ackland,  who,  himself,  was  wounded 
a  moment  later.  It  was  a  furious  affair,  —  one  of  the 
most  desperate  Indian  battles  of  the  frontier. 

One  of  the  scouts  —  a  fellow  named  Galbreath  — 
was  wounded  by  an  arrow  which  struck  him  above  the 
pistol-belt,  on  the  left  side.  It  penetrated  as  far  as 
the  hip  bone.  The  hardy  frontiersman  made  no  com 
plaint,  but  drew  the  missile  out  at  once,  loaded  his 
gun,  and  continued  to  fight  on  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened.  No  one  knew  that  he  had  been  wounded  until 
the  worst  part  of  the  battle  was  over. 

The  Indians,  fought  with  great  fury,  but  they  soon 
saw  that  they  could  not  drive  the  Rangers  back,  and 
so  withdrew  to  the  north  end  of  the  Pass.  Here  they 
buried  their  dead  chieftain;  killed  all  of  their  crip 
pled  horses,  and  held  a  scalp  dance  over  the  remains 
of  their  fallen  comrades.  Five  Rangers  had  been 
killed  and  six  had  been  wounded.  The  men  under 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  265 

Jack  Hays  retreated  to  the  south  end  of  the  Pass, 
where  they  buried  those  who  had  met  their  end,  and 
attended  to  the  wounded.  Next  morning  they  jogged 
along  to  San  Antonio.  The  Indians  did  not  pursue. 

The  battle  of  Bandera  Pass  had  taught  the  red  men 
that  the  Rangers  were  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Captain 
Jack  was  continually  on  the  lookout  for  them,  and 
soon  had  another  experience  which  he  had  no  occa 
sion  to  forget.  It  happened  about  a  year  after  the 
famous  battle  at  the  Pass. 

Fourteen  Rangers  —  under  Captain  Jack  —  went 
upon  a  scout  up  the  Neuces  Canyon,  with  the  expec 
tation  of  meeting  the  Indians,  who  were  then  upon 
the  war-path.  After  a  long  trip  to  the  head  of  the 
river,  without  seeing  any  fresh  Indian  sign,  Hays 
turned  back  down  the  canyon  and  camped.  Next  day 
the  little  party  travelled  onward,  and  —  about  noon  — 
some  one  discovered  a  bee  tree. 

"  Hold  on,  Captain!  "  said  a  Ranger.  "  Just  wait 
a  minute  and  I'll  chop  all  the  honey  out  of  that  tree- 
top." 

"  All  right,"  replied  Hays.  "  Sail  in  and  let's  see 
what  you  can  do.  Pull  your  bridles  off,  men.  Let 
your  ropes  down  and  allow  your  horses  to  graze.  We 
will  rest  here  awhile  and  get  some  honey." 

The  Ranger  secured  a  small  axe  that  was  in  the 
luggage  on  a  pack-mule,  and  ascended  the  tree,  for  the 
purpose  of  chopping  into  the  honey  without  cutting 
down  this  stout  piece  of  timber. 

About  this  time  a  large  band  of  Comanches  were 
coming  down  the  canyon  on  a  raid,  and,  seeing  the 


266        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

trail  of  the  Rangers,  they  followed  it.  The  fellow 
in  the  tree  had  a  good  view  of  the  valley,  and,  to  his 
startled  vision  appeared  a  great  body  of  redskins. 

"  Jerusalem,  the  Golden,  Captain !  "  he  sang  out. 
"  Yonder  come  a  thousand  Indians !  Jerusalem !  " 

The  Comanches  were  riding  rapidly  down  the  trail 
and  made  a  good  deal  of  dust.  Hays  sprang  to  his 
feet,  as  quick  as  a  cat,  and  sang  out  his  orders 
promptly,  and  to  the  point. 

"  Come  out  of  that  tree,  there !  Men,  put  on  your 
bridles!  Take  up  your  ropes!  Be  ready  for  them! 
Be  ready  for  them !  " 

All  sprang  to  their  horses,  and  were  soon  prepared 
to  meet  the  onrush  of  the  red  men. 

The  Rangers  were  armed  with  Colt's  five-shooters, 
besides  their  rifles  and  a  brace  of  holster  single-shot 
pistols.  Thus  each  man  could  fire  nine  shots.  The 
Indians  had  never  before  come  in  conflict  with  scouts 
armed  with  the  five-shooter,  and  they  rode  on  ex- 
ultingly,  for  they  greatly  outnumbered  the  whites. 
Jack  Hays  never  ran  from  Indians,  and  had  never  yet 
been  defeated  by  them. 

The  Comanches  came  forward,  yelling  loudly. 
They  thought  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  ride 
over  the  small  squad  of  white  men,  who  were  drawn 
up  around  the  old  bee  tree.  Some  of  the  scouts  began 
to  raise  their  guns,  but  Captain  Jack  cried  out: 

"  Now,  boys,  do  not  shoot  too  quickly.  Let  the 
redskins  come  closer.  Hit  something  when  you  do 
shoot.  Stand  your  ground.  We  can  whip  them  when 
we  shoot.  There  is  no  doubt  about  that." 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  267 

The  redskins  thundered  down  upon  the  Rangers. 
When  they  were  quite  close,  Captain  Jack  called: 

"  Fire,  and  let  every  shot  tell !  " 

A  sheet  of  flame  burst  from  the  rifles  of  the  scouts, 
and  so  many  ponies  went  down  that  the  redskins  di 
vided  to  the  right  and  left,  discharging  their  arrows 
as  they  swept  by. 

At  this  moment  Captain  Jack  sprang  into  his  sad 
dle. 

"  After  them,  men,"  he  cried.  "  Give  them  no 
chance  to  turn  on  us!  Crowd  them!  Powder-burn 
them!" 

Never  was  a  band  of  redskins  more  surprised ;  for 
they  expected  the  Rangers  to  remain  near  the  tree, 
and  upon  the  defensive.  With  a  wild  whoop,  the  fol 
lowers  of  Jack  Hays  galloped  after  the  running 
braves,  keeping  up  a  perfect  fusillade  with  their  pis 
tols.  The  Comanches  were  thunderstruck  at  this  turn 
of  affairs.  Some  tried  in  vain  to  turn  their  horses 
and  make  a  stand,  but  such  was  the  wild  confusion 
of  running  horses,  popping  pistols,  and  yelling  Ran 
gers,  that  they  abandoned  the  idea  of  a  rally,  and 
sought  safety  in  furious  flight.  In  endeavoring  to 
dodge  the  terrible  five-shooters,  some  dropped  their 
bows. and  round  shields.  Some  kept  off  the  Rangers 
by  thrusting  at  them  with  their  long  lances. 

The  Indians  ran  for  three  miles  before  they  could 
get  away.  The  Rangers  now  rode  back,  well  satisfied 
with  the  day's  work,  and  were  surprised  to  see  the 
result  of  their  charge.  The  ground  was  fairly  black 
with  dead  redskins.  Many  years  afterwards  a 


268        FAMOUS   FRONTIEESMEN 

friendly  Delaware  Indian,  called  "  Bob,"  met  the 
Comanche  chieftain  who  led  his  warriors  in  this 
fight. 

"  Who  did  you  battle  with  upon  this  occasion  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Ugh !  Jack  Hays  and  his  Rangers,"  gloomily  re 
plied  the  Comanche  chief,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
never  want  to  fight  him  again.  Ugh!  Ugh!  His 
soldiers  had  a  shot  for  every  finger  on  their  hands. 
I  lost  half  of  all  my  warriors.  Ugh !  Me  never  fight 
with  him  again." 

The  Rangers  soon  afterwards  had  another  tough 
little  scrimmage  with  the  Comanches.  Fifteen  of  the 
Rangers  were  together  at  this  time  and  they  met  an 
almost  equal  number  of  Indians,  who  were  discovered 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  near  the  Frio  River.  The 
Indians  were  riding  very  tired  horses,  and  the  scouts 
thus  gained  upon  them  rapidly.  The  red  men  kept 
under  cover,  as  much  as  possible,  riding  in  ravines 
which  had  brushes  and  prickly  pears  around  them, 
wherever  they  could  do  so. 

Captain  Jack  and  his  men  arrived  at  a  little  dried-up 
creek  called  Ci  Bolo  (buffalo  creek)  where  they  came 
close  to  the  Indians,  who  were  travelling  in  a  ravine 
which  hid  them  from  view.  The  Rangers  heard  their 
leggings  scraping  against  the  brush,  so,  for  some  dis 
tance,  they  rode  parallel  with  the  savages,  waiting 
for  a  chance  to  make  a  charge.  The  redskins  could 
be  heard  talking  to  each  other. 

Suddenly  the  Comanches  left  the  ravine  and  rode 
out  in  open  view,  not  more  than  thirty  yards  away. 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  269 

They  apparently  were  not  aware  of  the  presence  of 
the  scouts  until  a  sharp  crack  warned  them  of  their 
danger.  At  the  first  discharge,  a  redskin  fell  from  his 
horse.  The  others  attempted  to  run  back  to  cover, 
yelling  and  shooting  at  the  Rangers  as  they  did  so. 
But  the  scouts  were  too  speedy  for  them  and  cut  them 
off.  One,  however,  seemed  determined  to  get  into  the 
ravine.  He  disappeared  into  a  thicket,  at  the  edge  of 
the  gully,  but  a  Ranger  called  Tom  Galbraith  dis 
mounted,  and,  running  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket 
after  the  Indian  had  reached  it,  fired,  and  killed 
him. 

The  rest  of  the  savages  endeavored  to  make  their 
escape  across  the  open  country,  which  was  filled  with 
scattered  bunches  of  the  prickly  pear,  cactus,  and  cat- 
claw  bushes.  Some  were  on  mules,  and  others  on 
jaded  horses.  The  Rangers  rode  hard  after  them  and 
fired  with  deadly  effect.  The  Indians  had  no  guns  — 
only  bows  and  arrows  —  so  they  did  but  little  dam 
age. 

As  the  chase  continued,  one  young  Ranger  called 
Stoke  Holmes,  who  rode  a  fast  little  pony,  singled  out 
an  Indian  and  cried  out: 

"  Watch  me,  Boys !    I'm  going  to  rope  him !  " 

While  he  was  running  along  and  was  swinging  his 
lariat,  the  pony  attempted  to  jump  a  large  bunch  of 
prickly  pears.  He  reared  so  high  that  his  rider  lost 
his  seat  in  the  saddle  and  fell  backwards  into  the  ter 
rible  cactus.  Some  of  his  comrades  saw  the  mishap. 
They  quickly  shot  the  redskin  and  then  came  rapidly 
to  his  rescue,  as  he  was  unable  to  get  up.  The  valiant 


270       FAMOUS  FEONTIEESMEN 

scout  was  in  a  sad  plight.  His  body  had  thousands 
of  pear  thorns  in  it,  and  his  clothing  was  pinned  to 
him  on  all  sides.  He  was  in  agonies  of  pain.  Pulling 
him  away  from  the  grip  of  the  cactus,  the  Rangers 
stripped  off  all  of  his  clothing,  extracted  all  of  the 
large  thorns,  and  endeavored  to  pull  out  the  small 
ones.  But  this  was  an  impossibility,  as  there  were 
thousands  of  small  needle-like  prickers  in  his  flesh. 
With  a  sharp  knife  the  Ranger  shaved  them  close  to 
the  skin  so  that  his  clothing  would  not  irritate  his 
body  by  rubbing  against  them.  The  bold  young 
fellow  was  hardly  able  to  ride  for  several  days  there 
after.  As  for  the  rest  of  the  redskins,  —  only  three 
escaped. 

Not  many  months  later  Captain  Hays  and  his  men 
were  close  upon  a  band  of  Indians,  who  had  been 
located  by  his  scouts  in  a  bunch  of  cedars.  The  Ran 
gers  had  not  eaten  all  day,  because  they  had  been  hot 
in  pursuit. 

"  Dismount,  men,"  cried  the  captain.  "  Stay  here  a 
few  minutes  and  partake  of  the  cold  bread  and  beef 
in  your  saddle-bags.  But,  boys,  by  no  means  raise 
any  smoke,  or  the  redskins  will  surely  see  it,  and  will 
know  that  the  Rangers  are  upon  their  trail." 

"  You're  right,  Captain !  "  cried  many.  "  We 
are  half  famished." 

Captain  Hays  always  had  a  few  Mexicans  with  him, 
as  they  were  good  guides  and  trailers,  but,  upon  this 
occasion,  they  lighted  their  cigarettes  after  eating  and 
dropped  the  hot  ashes  into  a  pile  of  leaves.  Smoke 
was  soon  curling  above  the  tree-tops. 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  271 

"  Curse  it,  boys !  "  cried  Captain  Hays.  "  Did  I 
not  tell  you  not  to  set  fire  to  anything.  Put  that  out, 
immediately !  " 

Some  of  the  Rangers  began  to  stamp  upon  the 
glowing  fire.  Hays  was  so  angry  that  he  struck  the 
Mexicans  with  his  quirt. 

"Mount!  Mount!"  cried  he.  "  We  must  go 
quickly  after  the  redskins,  as  I  fear  that  they  have 
seen  the  tell-tale  fire  and  have  decamped." 

A  furious  run  was  now  made  for  the  tepees  of  the 
hostiles,  which  were  a  mile  away.  It  was  as  the 
knowing  Captain  had  anticipated.  The  Indians  saw 
the  smoke  and  knew  that  the  Rangers  were  on  their 
trail.  They  had  fled,  leaving  many  things  in  their 
camp,  which  were  seized  by  the  troopers.  The 
Comanches  had  gotten  safely  away. 

In  1844  Captain  Hays  and  his  men  had  a  hard 
fight,  —  one  of  his  hardest,  in  fact.  It  was  near  the 
Pedernales  River.  Upon  this  occasion  he  had  gone 
out  with  fourteen  men,  about  eighty  miles  northwest 
from  San  Antonio,  for  the  purpose  of  finding  out  the 
position  of  the  redskins  and  the  probable  location  of 
their  camp. 

As  the  river  came  in  view,  about  fifteen  Indians  were 
discovered.  They  soon  saw  the  Rangers.  Riding 
towards  them,  they  shook  their  clenched  fists  and 
seemed  to  be  desirous  of  having  a  fight.  As  the 
Rangers  rode  forward  they  retreated  and  endeavored 
to  lead  them  towards  a  ridge  which  was  covered  with 
thick  underbrush. 

"  Oh,   no,"   said   Captain   Hays,   "  I  am  too  well 


272        FAMOUS   FKONTIEKSMENi 

acquainted  with  your  wiles  to  move  on.  I  know  that 
you  have  an  ambush  laid  for  me  and  my  men." 

It  was  hard  to  keep  the  Rangers  from  advancing  to 
the  attack. 

"  Go  around  the  redskins  to  the  second  ridge,"  cried 
the  knowing  Captain.  "  We  can  thus  get  the  Indians 
in  the  rear." 

The  Rangers  were  posted  upon  a  long  hillock,  sep 
arated  from  the  Indian  position  by  a  deep  ravine. 
They  were  not  here  long  before  the  redskins  discov 
ered  who  was  before  them,  and,  as  they  knew  Captain 
Jack  full  well,  decided  to  give  up  trying  to  catch  him 
by  stratagem.  They  now  showed  themselves  to  the 
number  of  seventy-five  and  cried  out,  in  pigeon  Eng 
lish: 

"  Come  on,  white  men !  Ugh !  Come  on !  We 
get  your  scalps  soon !  " 

"I'll  meet  you  right  away!"  answered  Captain 
Hays. 

He  started  down  the  hill  immediately,  followed  by 
his  entire  command.  He  moved  slowly,  and,  when 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine  had  been  reached,  turned  — 
raced  ahead  at  full  speed  —  and  came  up  in  the  rear 
of  the  Indians.  While  they  had  their  eyes  glued  to 
the  front,  eagerly  awaiting  the  advance  from  that 
direction,  they  were  charged  in  the  rear  by  the 
Rangers.  The  first  fire  threw  them  into  instant  con 
fusion. 

Yells,  war-whoops,  and  shrill  screams  rent  the  air. 
The  redskins  scattered  like  quail,  but,  seeing  the 
superiority  of  their  own  force,  soon  rallied. 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  273 

"  Draw  your  five-shooters,  men/'  cried  the  Captain 
of  the  Rangers.  "  We  must  meet  the  charge  of  the 
Comanches  as  we  have  always  met  them." 

The  redskins  were  surrounding  the  Texans,  so  the 
Rangers  were  formed  in  a  circle,  fronting  outwards. 
They  were  still  mounted  on  their  horses,  and,  for  sev 
eral  minutes  maintained  that  position  without  firing  a 
shot.  The  Indians  came  on,  yelping,  and  were  soon 
near  enough  to  throw  their  lances  at  the  Texan  fron 
tiersmen. 

Crash! 

A  spitting  volley  came  from  the  five-shooters  of 
the  scouts  and  many  a  red  man  fell  to  the  sod.  Again 
a  volley  rang  out  and  the  Comanches  ceased  to  ad 
vance,  for  the  fire  of  the  Rangers  was  fearfully  accu 
rate.  The  redskins  fell  back,  but  they  were  not  de 
feated,  and  —  in  a  few  moments  —  again  came  on  to 
the  attack.  The  fight  continued  for  an  hour.  Twice 
the  Rangers  charged  and  retreated  to  their  first  posi 
tion.  Their  loads  were  now  exhausted.  The  Co- 
manche  chief  was  rallying  his  henchmen  for  one  more 
assault.  Twenty-five  of  his  painted  warriors  were 
prostrate  upon  the  prairie. 

The  situation  was  critical  for  the  Rangers,  as  many 
were  badly  wounded.  Several  had  been  killed. 

Captain  Hays,  who  was  in  the  centre  of  the  circle, 
now  saw  that  their  only  chance  was  to  kill  the  Indian 
chief. 

"  Have  any  of  you  men  a  loaded  rifle  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  have,"  answered  a  scout  called  Gillespie. 


274        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  Then  dismount,  my  boy,"  said  the  Ranger  Cap 
tain,  "  and  make  sure  work  of  that  chief." 

Gillespie  was  a  brave  man.  He  had  been  badly 
wounded  by  an  Indian  spear  which  had  gone  clean 
through  his  body.  He  was  hardly  able  to  sit  his 
horse,  but,  slipping  to  the  ground,  took  careful  aim 
and  fired.  As  his  rifle  cracked,  the  chief  fell  head 
long  from  his  horse. 

It  is  a  strange  thing,  but  Indians  always  lose  heart 
when  their  leader  is  slain.  Wailing  loudly,  the  Co- 
manches  now  left  the  field,  pursued  by  a  portion  of 
the  Texans.  They  carried  their  chieftain  safely  away, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  were  pressed  very  closely 
by  the  Rangers.  Thirty  Indians  lay  dead  upon  the 
battle-ground,  while  only  two  of  the  Texan  frontiers 
men  had  been  killed.  Five,  however,  were  badly 
wounded ;  chief  among  whom  was  Gillespie,  who  had 
really  ended  the  fight. 

Captain  Hays  and  his  men  went  back  to  San  An 
tonio  well  satisfied  with  the  day's  work.  A  month  later 
he  had  another  desperate  encounter  with  the  Co- 
manches. 

With  twenty  of  his  men  the  gallant  Ranger  was  on 
a  scout  near  the  "  Enchanted  Rock."  This  was  a  de 
pression  in  a  hill,  which  was  conical  in  shape,  and  was 
doubtless  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano.  A  dozen 
or  more  men  could  hide  in  this  place  and  put  up  a 
stout  defense  against  a  great  number  of  enemies,  as 
the  ascent  was  steep  and  rugged.  Not  far  from  the 
bottom  of  this  curious  hillock  the  Rangers  were  at 
tacked  by  a  large  force  of  Comanches. 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  275 

When  the  first  shot  was  fired,  Captain  Hays  was 
some  distance  from  his  men,  looking  about  in  order 
to  see  whether  or  not  he  could  discover  the  where 
abouts  of  the  Indians.  As  he  turned  to  run  towards 
the  "  Enchanted  Rock,"  he  was  cut  off  and  was  closely 
pursued  by  a  number  of  red  warriors. 

The  nervy  Captain  Jack  dashed  madly  up  the  side 
of  the  hill  and  entrenched  himself  in  the  extinct  crater. 
He  was  determined  to  make  the  best  fight  that  he 
could,  and  to  "  sell  out "  as  dearly  as  possible.  The 
redskins  arrived  upon  the  summit  shortly  after  he 
had  entrenched,  and,  after  surrounding  the  famous 
Captain  of  Rangers,  set  up  a  most  hideous  howling. 

"  There,  Captain  Jack,"  said  one.  "Ugh!  We 
get  Big  Smoky  Stick  this  time.  Ugh!  We  get  scalp 
this  time!  Ugh!  Ugh!" 

But  Captain  Jack  was  game.  Each  time  that  the 
muzzle  of  his  rifle  would  appear  over  the  rim  of  the 
crater  the  warriors  would  dodge  backwards,  knowing 
that  to  face  his  unerring  aim  was  sure  death. 

The  Indians  grew  bolder  and  made  a  charge.  Hays 
fired  his  rifle,  killing  a  redskin  at  the  discharge,  — 
then  shot  his  five-shooter  at  the  yelping  braves.  Each 
bullet  found  a  victim,  so  the  redskins  withdrew,  which 
gave  the  gallant  Captain  a  chance  to  reload.  Again 
they  came  on,  but  again  they  were  met  with  the  same 
cool  bravery.  Howling  dismally, .  they  again  drew 
away  and  made  ready  for  another  attack. 

Suddenly  wild  cheering  sounded  from  below  the 
Ranger  Captain.  Shots  came  thick  and  fast.  Wild 
yells  arose.  His  comrades  were  coming  to  his  rescue. 


276        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

The  Rangers  had  heard  the  rifle-fire  upon  the  top 
of  the  hill  and  knew  that  their  Captain  was  sur 
rounded.  So  they  were  fighting  their  way  up  to  him, 
in  spite  of  the  odds.  Soon  they  came  cheering  and 
yelling  to  the  edge  of  the  crater,  itself,  to  be  greeted 
by  the  cool  remark: 

"  Boys,  I'm  sure  glad  to  see  you !  I  was  nearly 
all  in!" 

When  the  Comanches  saw  that  the  Big  Chief  had 
been  rescued  they  retreated  down  the  steep  sides  of 
the  "  Enchanted  Rock."  They  met  their  comrades, 
who  had  been  badly  cut  up,  and,  deciding  that  the 
Rangers  were  too  good  for  them,  withdrew.  Wild 
cheers  welled  from  the  crater  of  "  Enchanted  Rock," 
and  loud  were  the  hurrahs  for  Texas  Jack,  the  gallant 
and  intrepid  Ranger. 

The  war  with  Mexico  found  Captain  Jack  Hays 
ready  and  willing  to  march  against  the  hated  "  Greas 
ers."  He  and  his  famous  Rangers  fought  in  nearly 
all  of  the  desperate  battles  of  the  campaign.  Many  of 
his  faithful  friends  and  companions  fell  before  the 
leaden  missiles  of  the  foe.  But  Captain  Jack  had  a 
charmed  life:  he  came  through  unscathed,  returned 
to  his  beloved  Texas,  and  then  moved  to  California, 
where  he  was  elected  Sheriff  of  San  Francisco  County. 
He  was  very  efficient  as  an  officer  and  left  an  excellent 
record  behind  him. 

In  1860  he  had  his  last  Indian  fight.  The  Piute 
Indians  in  the  state  of  Nevada  declared  war  upon  the 
whites,  in  that  year,  and  committed  many  depreda 
tions.  They  massacred  Major  Ormsby  and  his  men 


CAPTAIN   JACK   HAYS  277 

and  spread  terror  broadcast.  At  this  time  there  were 
rich  mines  in  Virginia  City,  and  among  the  many  men 
who  were  employed  there  was  an  old  Texan  Ranger, 
Captain  Edward  Storey,  a  man  of  great  personal 
courage.  He  was  also  very  popular  among  the  people. 

"  This  Indian  fighting  has  to  stop,  immediately," 
said  the  old  fellow,  his  fighting  blood  again  boiling. 

At  once  a  company  was  raised,  called  the  Virginia 
Rifles.  Colonel  Jack  Hays  heard  of  it,  and  immedi 
ately  came  over  from  California  in  order  to  enlist. 
With  him  were  several  other  bold  spirits  who  were 
eager  for  the  excitement  of  a  brush  with  the  redskins. 
They  marched  to  Pyramid  Lake,  not  far  from  the 
present  town  of  Reno,  and  there  met  the  exultant 
braves,  —  about  one  thousand  strong.  They  were 
flushed  with  their  recent  victory  over  Major  Ormsby 
and  his  men,  and  thought  that  they  could  easily  defeat 
the  whites. 

In  this  they  were  mistaken.  The  red  men  were  in 
the  hills  and  had  the  advantage  of  position,  but  the 
scouts  attacked  with  vigor  and  a  fierce  battle  ensued. 
Colonel  Jack  Hays  was  in  the  thick  of  the  fight  and 
conducted  himself  in  a  manner  quite  worthy  of  his 
name  and  fame.  A  complete  victory  was  won  by  the 
Virginia  Rangers,  but  at  a  fearful  loss.  Among  those 
slain  was  brave  Captain  Storey,  whose  body  was  rolled 
up  in  a  blanket  and  conveyed  to  Virginia  City  on  the 
back  of  a  pack-horse.  Colonel  Hays  rode  with  the 
remains  of  his  old  friend  of  the  wild  days  on  the 
Texan  plains,  then  returned  to  California. 

Here  the  famous  Indian  fighter  died  in  1883.     In 


278        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

his  later  years  he  became  very  wealthy  and  owned  a 
beautiful  home  near  Piedmont,  California.  He  never 
lived  in  Texas  again,  but  occasionally  went  there,  in 
order  to  visit  old  friends  and  relatives.  He  was 
buried  with  a  simple  ceremony,  and  thus  ended  the 
career  of  one  of  the  most  deadly  shots  and  courageous 
men  who  ever  rode  a  mustang  upon  the  plains  of  the 
West.  His  spirit  still  lives  in  the  hearts  of  the  Texans. 


From  "  My  Sixty  Years  on  the  Plains  "  -  Courtesy  of  the  Forest  and  Stream  Publishing  Co. 
"  UNCLE    BILL  "    HAMILTON. 


BILL    HAMILTON: 

FAMOUS  TRAPPER,  TRADER,  AND  INDIAN 
FIGHTER 

THE  mountaineers  were  pushing,  adventurous 
and  fearless  men  who  thought  nothing  of 
laying  down  their  lives  in  the  service  of  a 
friend.  They  usually  carried  very  little  with  them. 
A  few  ponies  transported  their  meagre  supplies,  and, 
with  only  enough  provisions  to  last  them  a  few  days, 
they  often  set  out  to  journey  through  a  vast  wilder 
ness.  Naturally  they  were  very  self-reliant.  With 
only  a  gun  or  two  they  took  desperate  risks  in  a  coun 
try  filled  with  their  red  enemies.  They  overcame 
every  difficulty  with  a  dash  and  courage  that  is  ama 
zing.  "  Uncle  Bill  "  Hamilton  was  a  typical  example 
of  one  of  these  men. 

From  the  time  that  he  was  twenty  years  of  age  this 
famous  old  fellow  spent  his  life  on  the  plains.  He 
became  a  sign-talker  and  was  able  to  converse  with  all 
the  Indian  tribes  which  were  met  with.  Sign-talking 
will  soon  be  a  lost  art,  but  in  the  old  days  all  of  the 
red  men  used  the  same  signs,  although  they  spoke 
different  languages.  He  was  also  a  trapper,  trader, 
and  pathfinder.  He  blazed  many  a  trail  which  was  to 
lead  the  frontiersmen  to  rich  agricultural  regions.  He 

279 


280        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

set  an  example  of  courage  and  perseverance  that  will 
leave  a  bright  memory  in  the  hearts  of  all. 

In  the  spring  of  1842,  when  twenty  years  of  age, 
young  Bill  was  living  in  St.  Louis,  Missouri;  but 
chills  and  fever  were  gradually  undermining  his  con 
stitution,  so  his  doctor  ordered  a  change  of  climate. 
Consequently  his  father  made  arrangements  with  a 
party  of  hunters  and  trappers,  who  were  in  St.  Louis 
for  a  few  days,  to  let  his  son  accompany  them  on 
their  next  trip,  which  would  last  a  year.  The  party 
consisted  of  eight  "  free  "  traders,  with  "  Bill  "  Will 
iams  and  a  man  named  Perkins,  as  leaders.  These  two 
scouts  had  had  fifteen  years'  experience  on  the  plains 
among  Indians,  and  had  a  wide  reputation  for  fear 
less  courage  and  daring  exploits. 

The  trappers  soon  reached  Independence,  Missouri, 
—  where  they  sold  their  wagons  and  rigged  up  a 
complete  pack  outfit,  as  the  expedition  would  go 
through  a  country  in  which  wagons  could  not  travel. 
Young  Bill  Hamilton  still  had  on  city  clothes,  and 
when  the  old  fur  traders  saw  this,  they  began  to  laugh 
and  poke  fun  at  him. 

"  What  be  you  going  to  do  with  that  city  cuss  in 
th'  mountains?  "  said  one.  "  Why,  he'll  lose  himself 
in  a  hour's  time  and  walk  down  the  throat  of  some 
grizzly  bear." 

Young  Bill  did  not  like  this  remark  at  all,  and  hur 
rying  to  a  frontier  store  he  traded  his  "  store  clothes  " 
for  two  suits  of  the  finest  buckskin.  When  he  ap 
peared  in  camp  with  these  fine  togs  on  one  of  the 
mountaineers  said: 


BILL   HAMILTON  281 

"  Williams,  that  boy  o'  yourn  will  make  a  fine  old 
pioneer  and  mountaineer,  if  he  catches  on  at  this  rate." 

The  youthful  plainsman  heard  it  and  smiled,  for  he 
had  felt  very  badly  before. 

The  party  pushed  onward  and  reached  Salt  Creek. 
Camp  had  just  been  made  when  a  small  herd  of  buf 
falo  appeared  in  the  distance  and  made  directly  for 
the  little  band.  Williams  gave  orders  to  corral  all 
the  stock,  for  he  feared  that  this  was  the  game  of 
some  plains  Indians,  and  he  was  not  far  from  being 
correct.  The  stock  had  barely  been  secured  when  the 
buffalo  thundered  by,  followed  by  thirty  painted 
Kiowa  warriors.  They  were  wild  and  savage. 

The  trappers  had  placed  their  packs  in  a  triangle, 
and  crouched  behind  them.  This  made  an  excellent 
breastwork.  Each  man  was  armed  with  a  rifle,  two 
pistols,  a  tomahawk,  and  a  large  knife,  called  a 
"tooth-picker."  Two  of  the  men  had  bows  and  ar 
rows  with  which  they  were  experts. 

The  redskins  rode  up  insolently;  examined  the  out 
fit,  and  demanded  pay  for  passing  through  their  coun- 
try. 

"  You  can  neither  touch  our  traps  nor  will  we  give 
you  pay  for  riding  through  your  country,"  said  Will 
iams.  "  This  is  Pawnee  country  and  you  are  Kiowas." 

The  Indians  seemed  to  be  ill  pleased  and  looked 
vindictively  at  the  sturdy  men  of  the  plains.  The 
leader  was  given  some  tobacco.  He  was  not  a  chief, 
but  a  young  brave  with  two  feathers  stuck  in  his  scalp- 
lock.  After  receiving  this  gift  the  savages  withdrew, 
saying :  "  Ugh !  Ugh !  We  come  again !  " 


282        FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

The  trapper  kept  close  watch  during  the  night,  ex 
pecting  that  the  Indians  would  attempt  to  steal  some 
of  the  stock  and  attack  the  camp.  But  nothing  oc- 
cured.  Many  outfits  have  come  to  grief  by  put 
ting  confidence  in  the  red  man,  who  always  covets 
the  belongings  of  the  paleface.  Old  and  expe 
rienced  mountain  men  like  these  left  nothing  to 
chance. 

Pretty  soon  the  trappers  reached  the  camp  of  some 
Cheyennes  and  there  unpacked  their  goods  in  order 
to  trade.  Young  Bill  accompanied  the  chief's  son, 
Swift  Runner,  through  the  village,  who  introduced 
him  to  all  the  leading  men. 

"  There  will  be  a  large  hunting  party  starting  out 
to-morrow  after  buffalo,"  said  he,  "  and  if  you  wish 
to  go  along  I  will  furnish  you  with  a  good  hunting 
horse." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go,"  cried  young  Bill,  so 
next  morning  found  him  riding  across  the  prairie  with 
about  fifty  Indians  and  twenty  squaws. 

After  travelling  for  nearly  ten  miles  the  scouts  dis 
covered  a  herd  and  reported  its  location  to  the  hunting 
chief.  This  leader  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  topography  of  the  country  and  led  the  redskins 
upon  a  long  detour,  so  as  to  get  on  the  leeward  side 
of  the  herd.  As  soon  as  a  favorable  position  had 
been  reached  the  Indians  stripped  to  their  breech- 
clouts  and  advanced,  leading  their  running  horses  as 
they  did  so. 

The  chief  now  divided  the  hunters  into  two  divi 
sions,  in  order  to  get  the  buffalo  into  a  small  area. 


BILL   HAMILTON  283 

They  rode  to  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  herd 
and  then  the  word  was  given  to  "  Sail  in !  " 

In  an  instant  the  wild  array  of  naked  Indians 
started  for  the  herd,  sending  forth  yell  after  yell,  and 
riding  like  demons  in  their  eagerness  to  bring  down 
the  first  buffalo.  For  this  is  quite  a  feat  and  is  com 
mented  upon  by  the  whole  village. 

Swift  Runner,  himself,  had  the  fastest  horse  in  the 
party  and  brought  down  the  first  buffalo,  much  to  the 
chagrin  of  many  a  young  brave  —  who  coveted  the 
honor  —  for  it  would  bring  him  smiles  from  his  lady 
love.  Young  Bill's  pony  loped  along  with  willingness, 
and  Swift  Runner  pointed  out  a  fat  cow  for  him  to 
dispose  of.  In  a  few  jumps  he  was  alongside  of  the 
great  lumbering  brute,  and  fired  into  her  side.  As 
luck  would  have  it,  he  broke  her  back  and  she  dropped 
to  the  sod.  Swift  Runner  yelled  hilariously  at  this 
success,  but  it  was  a  very  careless  shot,  and,  had  he 
missed,  the  cow  might  have  made  things  ugly  for  him. 

There  was  a  great  yelling  and  shooting  upon  every 
hand  and  several  riderless  ponies  were  mixed  in  with 
the  buffalo.  Many  prairie-dog  holes  were  the  cause 
of  this,  for  when  the  ponies  stepped  into  them  their 
riders  were,  of  course,  thrown  over  their  heads. 
Ponies  are  usually  sure-footed  beasts,  but  when  in 
a  chase  like  this,  where  over  a  thousand  buffalo  are 
tearing  over  the  prairie  and  kicking  up  a  big  lot  of 
dust,  it  makes  it  impossible  for  the  animals  to  see  the 
holes. 

Young  Bill  brought  down  four  of  the  huge  brown 
bison  and  received  great  praise  from  the  Indians  for 


284        FAMOUS   FKONTIEKSMEN 

his  skill.  They  used  arrows  in  their  killing  and  shot 
behind  the  shoulder,  bringing  the  buffalo  to  his  knees. 
Another  arrow  would  be  sent  deep  enough  to  penetrate 
the  lungs  of  the  beast  and  it  would  then  be  soon  over 
with  him. 

For  three-quarters  of  a  mile  the  prairie  was  dotted 
with  the  dead  buffalo.  They  were  soon  butchered; 
the  ponies  were  packed  with  three  hundred  pounds  of 
the  choicest  meat,  and  the  caravan  started  for  home. 
Several  Indians  who  had  been  thrown  limped  quite 
badly,  but  no  one  was  seriously  injured.  At  sundown 
the  village  was  reached,  a  feast  was  prepared,  and  all 
joined  in  the  affair  with  the  greatest  good  will  and 
friendship.  Young  Bill  was  warmly  congratulated 
upon  his  success,  and  this  was  well,  for  if  a  white 
man  fails  to  acquit  himself  creditably  with  the  red 
skins  it  casts  a  reflection  upon  all  the  whites. 

The  Indians  made  pemmican  and  "  dupuyer  "  from 
the  buffalo.  The  first  is  manufactured  in  the  follow 
ing  manner :  the  choicest  portions  of  the  buffalo  meat 
are  selected,  sliced,  and  cut  into  flakes.  They  are  then 
dried.  All  of  the  marrow,  from  the  centre  of  the 
bones,  is  put  into  one  pile  with  the  sweetest  of  the  tal 
low.  These  ingredients  are  mixed  together  and  stirred 
around  in  a  pot  which  is  hung  over  a  slow  fire.  The 
combination  is  then  cooled.  Some  red  men  put  berries 
into  the  mixture,  which  harden  and  give  a  sweetish 
taste.  The  mountaineers  and  trappers  —  when  sugar 
was  scarce  —  always  made  their  pemmican  in  this; 
manner.  The  Indian  squaws  pulverized  the  meat  by 
beating  it  upon  a  flat  rock,  and  then  placed  it  in  skin- 


BILL   HAMILTON  285 

bags  for  future  use.  It  is  estimated  that  one  pound 
of  pemmican  is  equal  to  about  five  pounds  of  beef. 

A  fat  substance  which  lies  along  the  buffalo's  back 
bone,  next  to  the  hide,  is  known  as  "  dupuyer."  It 
is  about  as  thick  as  the  hand  of  a  trapper  and  runs 
from  the  shoulder-blade  to  the  last  rib.  In  breadth 
it  measures  between  seven  to  eleven  inches.  The  In 
dians  and  mountaineers  would  strip  away  this  sub 
stance  —  dip  it  in  hot  grease  for  thirty  seconds  — 
and  then  hang  it  to  the  inside  poles  of  a  lodge.  A 
fire  would  be  lighted  beneath  it  and  it  would  be  al 
lowed  to  dry  and  smoke  for  ten  or  twelve  hours. 
"  Dupuyer "  was  considered  to  be  a  great  delicacy, 
for  it  was  very  nourishing.  Besides  this  it  was  tender 
and  sweet.  The  trappers  loved  this  food  and  would 
pay  a  dollar  a  pound  for  it,  while  the  Indians  always 
took  dried  meat  and  "  dupuyer  "  along  with  them  upon 
their  expeditions. 

When  Williams  and  his  party  moved  on,  Swift  Run 
ner  presented  young  Bill  with  a  pony  which  he  had 
ridden  in  the  hunt,  and  the  squaws  gave  him  a  half 
a  dozen  pairs  of  beautifully  embroidered  moccasins. 

A  few  days  later  the  party  reached  the  South  Platte 
River  and  there  found  a  Sioux  village.  Big  Thunder 
was  the  chief,  and  he  requested  the  trappers  to  camp 
there,  as  his  people  wanted  to  trade  with  them.  The 
Sioux  were  then  a  friendly  tribe  and  treated  the 
white  men  in  a  cordial  manner. 

Just  before  dawn  —  upon  the  day  following  — 
a  wild  yelping  awoke  the  entire  village.  The  war 
riors  ran  out  only  to  find  that  the  Pawnees  —  the 


286        FAMOUS   ERONTIEESMEN 

mortal  enemies  of  the  Sioux  —  had  run  off  about  one 
hundred  head  of  ponies  which  had  been  turned  out  to 
graze  only  a  short  distance  from  camp.  Among  this 
number  were  two  mules  and  three  ponies  belonging 
to  the  white  men. 

As  soon  as  this  news  was  received  there  was  a 
great  yelling  and  shouting,  while  fifty  young  war 
riors  hastened  to  saddle  their  best  ponies.  Young  Bill 
Hamilton  was  with  them,  and,  under  the  leadership 
of  Young  Thunder,  they  started  after  the  redskins. 
The  trail  of  the  fugitives  was  soon  struck  and  followed 
at  a  brisk  gallop,  and,  after  going  about  eight  miles, 
it  was  evident  that  the  Pawnees  were  but  a  short  dis 
tance  in  advance.  Passing  over  a  divide,  a  cloud  of 
dust  could  be  plainly  seen  about  two  miles  in  advance. 

The  Pawnees  rode  hard,  but  they  were  soon  in 
view.  There  were  twelve  in  the  party.  As  Young 
Thunder  gave  a  war-whoop,  the  ponies  bounded  for 
ward  and  carried  their  owners  towards  the  fugitives 
as  if  shot  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  cannon.  The  Paw 
nees  heard  the  chief's  yell,  and,  leaving  the  herd  of 
stolen  stock,  made  for  a  neighboring  cottonwood 
grove.  While  Bill  Hamilton  rode  onward,  a  bullet 
whistled  by  his  ear.  The  savages  fired  several  more 
shots  but  their  lead  all  went  wide  of  its  mark. 

"  Don't  you  intend  to  charge  the  grove  and  en 
deavor  to  capture  the  Pawnee  warriors  ?  "  said  Bill  to 
the  Sioux  chief. 

Young  Thunder  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  no/'  he  answered.  "  'Nough  to  get  back  our 
ponies." 


BILL   HAMILTON  287 

The  young  scout  thought  that  the  Indians  were  not 
such  terrible  fighters  as  some  writers  would  have  them 
appear,  and  this  impression  never  changed,  although 
he  occasionally  met  a  few  that  knew  no  fear. 

Two  of  the  Pawnee  braves  had  been  killed  in  this 
little  skirmish,  and  the  warriors  rode  back  to  their 
village  carrying  the  fresh  scalps  tied  on  the  end  of 
long  sticks.  The  whole  village  turned  out  to  greet 
them,  yelling  like  furies.  Pandemonium  reigned  all 
night,  but  when  old  trapper  Williams  heard  that  young 
Bill  had  ridden  in  so  close  to  the  timber,  he  said: 

"  I  shall  have  to  keep  you  at  home  next  time,  if  I 
expect  to  return  you  to  your  parents.  You  are  a 
young  fool  to  approach  close  to  timber  where  hostile 
Indians  are  concealed." 

''  Three  of  our  ponies  were  in  the  bunch  of  cap 
tured  horses,"  answered  the  young  scout.  "  I  did 
not  wish  to  return  without  them.  As  for  the  Sioux, 
I  consider  them  a  lot  of  cowards." 

The  Pawnees  had  not  acted  with  good  judgment  in 
trying  to  drive  off  fully  one  hundred  head  of  horses, 
so  near  daylight.  For  they  should  have  known  that 
the  Sioux  warriors  would  be  after  them,  mounted 
upon  their  best  war-ponies. 

The  trappers  soon  bade  good-by  to  their  kind  hosts 
and  continued  on  towards  the  Little  Wind  River, 
crossing  a  rugged  and  romantic  country,  where  lofty, 
sky-piercing  peaks  ascended  into  the  banks  of  drifting 
clouds.  To  the  northwest  were  the  Wind  River  Moun 
tains  ;  to  the  eastward  was  the  Big  Horn  Range,  — 
the  home  of  the  buffalo,  elk,  antelope,  deer,  and 


288        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

grizzly  bear.  It  was  a  hunter's  paradise,  where  many 
different  tribes  of  Indians  met  on  their  annual  hunt, 
and  often  battled  for  the  right  to  the  soil.  Hostile 
war-parties  were  even  now  quite  numerous  in  the 
mountains.  At  Little  Wind  River,  Evans  and  Russell 
picked  up  a  moccasin,  showing  that  the  redskins  were 
quite  near. 

Beaver  and  otter  seemed  to  be  plentiful,  so  the  men 
set  their  traps.  At  night  they  slept  with  arms  at  their 
sides,  ready  for  instant  action,  and  a  close  guard  was 
stationed  beyond  camp,  as  it  was  almost  certain  that 
the  Indians  would  discover  them  and  would  run  off 
with  their  stock.  This  was  the  most  dangerous  coun 
try  on  the  plains  and  was  constantly  invaded  by  war- 
parties  of  Blackfeet,  Bloods,  Piegans,  and  Crows. 
All  had  to  be  constantly  upon  the  alert  to  avoid  losing 
their  horses  and  their  scalps. 

About  four  o'clock  one  morning  two  rifle  reports 
brought  every  man  to  his  feet.  Yell  after  yell  sounded 
from  the  darkness,  and  shot  after  shot  came  whistling 
into  the  camp.  In  an  instant  the  trappers  were  up 
and  about  —  their  rifles  replying  to  this  fusillade. 
Evans  and  Russell  (two  of  the  most  experienced 
scouts)  killed  a  couple  of  the  Indians  with  their  first 
shots,  for  dawn  was  just  coming,  and  two  black  bodies 
were  seen  to  leap  into  the  air  and  then  roll  down  a 
hill  upon  which  they  had  been  crouching.  The  sav 
ages  were  shooting  arrows  and  old  Hudson  Bay  flint 
locks  which  made  a  big  flash  when  discharged.  As 
the  scouts  aimed  at  these  flaming  jets,  they  must  have 
done  considerable  damage,  for  the  -Indians  fell  back. 


BILL   HAMILTON  289 

They  continued  to  send  shots  into  camp  until  day 
dawned. 

"  Let's  charge  the  critters !  "  shouted  young-  Bill 
Hamilton. 

"  Not  on  your  life,  boy!  "  shouted  trapper  Williams. 
"  It's  most  dangerous  to  run  into  such  a  number  of 
unknown  redskins  at  night." 

So  the  young  man  desisted. 

Just  before  daylight  the  Indians  attempted  to  re 
cover  their  slain  comrades,  by  crawling  up  to  them 
in  the  grass.  The  scouts,  however,  were  up  to  such 
tactics  and  added  one  more  to  keep  company  with 
two  of  the  red  men  already  sent  to  the  Happy  Hunt 
ing  Grounds.  At  this,  the  redskins  gave  a  yell  of 
deep  despair.  Then  they  filed  slowly  away,  sending 
a  few  parting  shots  at  the  trappers,  just  to  show  that 
they  were  still  in  good  fighting  order. 

Five  of  the  trappers'  ponies  had  been  badly 
wounded,  and  Williams  was  so  enraged  at  the  in 
jury  which  had  been  done  that  he  was  determined  to 
punish  the  Indians  still  further.  Leaving  two  men  in 
camp,  he  ordered  the  rest  to  follow  him  on  the  fresh 
trail  of  the  early  morning  marauders,  which  led  up 
a  small  stream.  The  scouts  galloped  eagerly  forward, 
and,  coming  to  a  rise,  were  soon  within  plain  view 
of  the  red  men,  who  were  hurrying  along,  trying  to 
get  two  of  their  wounded  comrades  to  the  protection 
of  a  grove. 

"  Dash  on  to  the  right !  "  shouted  Williams.  "  Head 
the  redskins  off  from  that  bunch  of  trees !  " 

The  red  men  saw  in  a  moment  that  they  would 


290        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

be  cut  off  from  the  grove,  and  they  made  for  a  patch 
of  willows  and  stunted  box-elders  just  below  them. 
There  were  eleven  of  them  in  all  and  the  trappers  cer 
tainly  had  them  cornered. 

It  was  about  a  hundred  yards  to  the  Indians,  and 
a  scout  named  Dockett  tried  a  shot  at  them.  The  red 
men  returned  fire,  wounding  him  in  the  thigh.  There 
were  a  quantity  of  boulders  near  by,  and  Williams 
ordered  his  men  to  roll  them  up  to  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  in  order  to  form  breastworks.  Four  of  the  trap 
pers  were  left  behind  this,  while  Williams  told  Noble 
and  young  Bill  Hamilton  to  follow  him  to  the  grove 
without  letting  the  Indians  notice  that  they  had  de 
camped. 

In  the  grove  the  trappers  concealed  themselves,  and 
the  wisdom  of  their  move  was  quite  clear.  The  In 
dians  realized  that  they  would  all  be  shot  down  if 
they  remained  in  their  present  position,  for  the  men 
behind  the  brow  of  the  hill  now  had  their  range.  Six 
of  them  made  a  dash  for  the  cluster  of  trees. 

When  the  scurrying  red  men  were  within  one  hun 
dred  yards  of  the  timber,  Williams  gave  orders  to 
shoot.  The  trappers  took  careful  aim,  and,  at  the 
flash  of  their  rifles,  three  of  the  red  men  fell  face 
down.  The  other  three  gave  a  yell  of  despair  and 
ran  up  the  hill.  The  trappers  dashed  after  them,  and 
the  Indians  became  panic-stricken  when  they  saw  the 
mounted  white  men  debouch  from  the  thick  wood 
land. 

Williams  raced  onward,  dashed  right  at  the  Indians, 
and,  although  shot  at,  managed  to  bring  both  of  the 


BILL   HAMILTON  291 

redskins  to  the  ground.  Now  all  three  had  been 
slain,  and  the  revenge  which  the  trappers  had  wished 
for  had  been  fully  satisfied.  The  redskins  were  Black- 
feet,  the  most  thieving  class  of  wild  riders  of  the 
plains. 

There  were  still  five  Indians  in  the  willows.  Many 
men  would  have  let  them  go.  But  not  so  with  Will 
iams.  He  was  considered  the  hardest  man  on  the 
plains  to  down  in  a  fight  with  the  Indians,  for  he  was 
never  known  to  quit  when  once  started.  It  was  to 
be  a  battle  to  the  bitter  end. 

"  There  are  five  Indians  down  there  who  shot  at 
and  insulted  us,"  said  he.  "  They  shall  have  what 
they  would  have  given  us  had  they  been  successful  in 
their  attack."  Here  he  turned  to  young  Hamilton. 
"  Boy,"  said  he,  "  never  let  an  Indian  escape  who  has 
once  attacked  you!  I  want  you  to  go  with  me.  We 
will  walk  to  the  gulch  and  approach  from  below." 

But  the  trappers  held  their  leader  in  too  high  esti 
mation  to  allow  him  to  thus  recklessly  expose  him 
self. 

"  Your  orders  are  going  to  be  disobeyed  for  once 
in  your  life,"  said  they.  "  We  cannot  afford  to  lose 
you." 

Williams  smiled. 

"  Evans  and  I  will  undertake  the  job,"  cried  scout 
Russell.  "  You  cover  us  with  your  fire." 

In  a  second  —  and  before  Williams  could  answer 
—  they  bounded  into  the  gulch  below.  Both  were 
quick  of  foot  and  had  been  in  so  many  desperate  bat 
tles  that  they  understood  the  danger  of  approaching 


292        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

prostrate  redskins;  for  a  wounded  Indian  is  an  uncer 
tain  animal. 

The  rest  of  the  scouts  kept  up  a  steady  fire  until 
Evans  and  Russell  were  seen  to  be  close  to  the  willows. 
Then  they  ceased,  as  the  two  scouts  bounded  forward, 
yelling  like  Indians.  The  other  trappers  also  rushed 
down,  and  although  one  of  the  braves  had  his  arrow 
in  his  bow  —  all  ready  to  shoot  —  he  never  pulled  it. 
In  a  very  short  time  it  was  all  over. 

The  Indians  had  now  been  annihilated,  and  among 
their  effects  were  found  two  fine  bridles,  ammunition, 
knives,  and  other  articles  belonging  to  trappers.  It 
was  evident  that  some  small  body  of  white  traders 
had  been  surprised  by  these  Blackfeet  and  put  out 
of  the  way  forever.  So  ended  this  stiff  little  skir 
mish. 

The  trappers  now  kept  on  their  way,  set  many 
beaver  traps,  caught  a  great  many  of  these  animals; 
and  traded  with  several  bands  of  friendly  redskins. 
The  men  were  all  fine  shots  and  often  received  praise 
from  people  for  their  expertness  in  fire-arms,  but  no 
more  than  they  merited,  for  an  American  mountain 
eer  had  no  equal  on  the  globe.  It  was  necessary  that 
the  trappers  should  be  very  expert,  for  they  carried 
their  lives  in  their  hands,  and  were  liable  to  come  in 
contact  with  roving  war-parties  at  any  moment.  To 
be  taken  prisoner  meant  torture  and  death,  and  it  was 
therefore  impossible  for  an  Indian  to  capture  either 
a  scout  or  a  trapper.  They  knew  what  would  follow. 

Young  Hamilton  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  life  and 
soon  became  one  of  the  most  proficient  talkers  in  sign 


BILL   HAMILTON  293 

language  on  the  plains.  The  trappers  reached  Fort 
Bridger,  where  were  many  Shoshones,  who  asked  the 
youthful  scout  many  questions  by  signs,  all  of  which 
he  answered  correctly.  This  astonished  even  the  older 
trappers,  many  of  whom  thought  that  he  had  been 
raised  by  some  tribe. 

Williams  now  left  the  men  of  the  plains  in  order 
to  go  to  Santa  Fe  on  business,  but  promised  to  be 
back  in  the  spring  and  organize  a  new  party  for  a 
two-year  expedition.  Before  he  left  he  took  young 
Hamilton  aside  and  gave  him  advice  in  many  matters. 
He  looked  upon  him  as  a  son,  and  few  fathers  ever 
gave  their  children  better  counsel.  The  trappers  de 
cided  to  trap  near  Salt  Lake,  and  the  Bear  and  Malade 
Rivers,  during  the  fall. 

When  they  had  proceeded  for  some  distance  they 
were  met  by  a  party  of  Indians,  who  spoke  the  Sho- 
shone  tongue,  and  who  informed  them  that  they  had 
to  pay  for  going  through  their  country.  Perkins  — 
who  was  now  leader  of  the  trappers  —  tried  to  make 
peace  with  them,  but  without  success.  He  made  the 
Indians  keep  away,  but  they  continued  to  make  signs, 
meaning  "  dogs,"  —  which  the  white  men  well  under 
stood.  The  trappers  held  their  rifles  ready  for  any 
emergency. 

Perkins  cautioned  his  men  to  have  patience,  and, 
filling  his  pipe,  offered  it  to  the  chief,  who  refused  it 
with  contempt,  saying :  "  Big  chief  never  smokes 
with  white  dogs." 

The  head  trapper's  patience  was  now  almost  ex 
hausted  and  he  told  the  chief  in  plain  language  to 


294        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  get  out."  His  men  prepared  for  action,  as  he  spoke, 
so  the  redskins  mounted  their  ponies  and  departed 
towards  the  South.  As  they  rode  off,  they  cast  all 
kinds  of  insults  at  the  white  men,  both  with  signs  and 
in  spoken  language.  It  was  certain  that  they  would 
soon  follow  the  trappers  and  then  there  would  be  a 
big  fight. 

That  night  every  precaution  was  taken  to  guard 
against  a  surprise.  Two  guards  were  put  on  duty, 
to  be  relieved  at  midnight,  and  a  well  fortified  posi 
tion  was  chosen  for  camp.  Perkins  said  that  it  was 
customary  for  the  Utahs  to  attack  just  before  day 
light,  for  this  is  the  time  that  the  redskins  expect  to 
find  the  whites  fast  asleep.  This  is  what  occurred  in 
the  present  instance. 

A  little  before  daylight  two  or  three  wolf  howls 
were  heard  by  the  guards,  who  immediately  notified 
Perkins.  Soon  all  the  men  were  up,  their  packs  being 
placed  in  a  semi-circle  as  a  breastwork.  Twenty  of 
the  best  horses  were  saddled  and  tied  in  a  thicket,  to 
protect  them  from  Indian  bullets  and  arrows.  Defeat 
meant  death,  so  the  trappers  looked  stolidly  before 
them,  fully  prepared  for  the  worst,  if  it  were  to  come. 

The  first  wolf  howls  were  soon  followed  by  others, 
coming  from  nearer  points  and  in  a  semi-circle.  In 
dians  are  experts  in  imitating  the  cries  of  owls,  wolves 
and  coyotes.  So  adept  are  they  in  the  art  that  it  is 
difficult  to  distinguish  them  from  the  calls  of  real 
birds  and  beasts.  Few  trappers  can  successfully  imi 
tate  these  animals,  although  many  endeavor  to  do  so. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  attack  commenced.    Just 


BILL   HAMILTON  295 

as  day  began  to  dawn  the  wolf  howls  ceased  and  the 
trappers  knew  that  the  crisis  was  at  hand.  The  In 
dians  had  crept  to  within  one  hundred  yards  of  camp 
before  they  gave  the  war-whoop.  Then  they  came 
on  —  fully  one  hundred  strong  —  yelping  wildly.  The 
trappers  were  all  ready  with  their  rifles  and  pistols. 
Three  were  armed  with  double-barrelled  shot-guns, 
loaded  with  half -ounce  balls  and  fine  buck-shot. 

The  Indians  raced  to  within  fifty  yards  before  a 
single  trapper  fired,  —  then  all  began  to  shoot.  The 
redskins  halted.  At  this  the  plainsmen  began  with 
their  six-shooters,  one  in  each  hand,  for  —  as  a  result 
of  long  continued  practice  —  they  could  shoot  equally 
well  with  either  arm.  These  mountaineers  had  to  be 
experts  in  the  use  of  both  rifle  and  pistol,  for  inability 
to  fire  with  accuracy  meant  instant  death  upon  many 
an  occasion. 

The  red  men  were  much  surprised  to  receive  so 
many  shots  from  but  twenty  men.  They  became  panic- 
stricken,  for  they  had  not  supposed  that  the  trappers 
possessed  two  pistols  each  —  twelve  shots  apiece  after 
their  rifles  had  been  discharged.  They  had  expected 
to  rush  right  over  the  breastworks,  before  the  rifles 
could  be  re-loaded.  They  retreated  —  assisting  many 
of  their  wounded.  An  arrow  went  through  young 
Bill  Hamilton's  cap. 

The  redskins  had  received  a  repulse  which  they  had 
not  expected,  and  retreated  to  their  villages,  taking 
their  dead  and  wounded  with  them.  The  chief,  Old 
Bear,  had  been  slain,  as  well  as  many  of  their  bravest 
warriors.  This  tribe  had  frequently  robbed  small 


296       FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

parties  of  trappers,  killing  them  many  times  and  al 
ways  treating  them  with  great  cruelty.  After  this 
fight  they  usually  gave  well-organized  bodies  of  trap 
pers  the  "  go  by." 

The  plainsmen  finished  their  work  without  being 
further  molested,  and  then  moved  on  to  Bear  River. 
In  the  spring,  trapper  Williams  returned  from  Santa 
Fe,  and  made  a  proposition  to  the  men  that  he  should 
form  a  company  of  forty-three  and  make  a  two-years' 
trip.  This  was  agreed  upon,  and  the  expedition  soon 
started,  on  the  25th  of  March,  1843.  The  trappers 
were  divided  into  four  parties,  which  collected  furs  in 
common;  that  is,  each  man  had  an  equal  share  in 
all  furs  caught  by  his  own  party.  For  mutual  pro 
tection  they  always  pitched  their  tents  and  lodges 
together. 

They  soon  passed  through  the  country  inhabited  by 
the  Bannock  Indians.  These  were  troublesome  and 
had  many  a  brush  with  the  stout  men  of  the  plains. 
But  the  trappers  came  through  every  escapade  with 
out  much  loss.  The  region  in  which  they  soon  found 
themselves  was  rich  with  beaver  and  otter;  large 
quantities  of  which  were  caught.  It  was  a  grandly 
beautiful  country  —  a  paradise  for  all  kinds  of  game. 
Bear  were  particularly  plentiful,  and  many  a  grizzly 
and  cinnamon  fell  before  the  accurate  aim  of  the  men 
in  buckskin. 

"  Young  Bill "  Hamilton  could  not  be  called 
"  Young  Bill "  any  more,  because  he  was  a  seasoned 
trapper,  and  his  many  experiences  with  wild  men  and 
wild  beasts  had  made  it  possible  for  him  to  hold  his 


BILL   HAMILTON  297 

own  with  the  most  experienced  men  of  the  party. 
The  trappers  made  a  wide  detour,  first  going  far 
North,  then  travelling  South  to  the  Carson  River  in 
Nevada,  where  they  lost  one  of  their  best  and  most 
skilled  men,  —  a  fellow  named  Crawford.  They  were 
in  the  Pah  Ute  country  and  could  tell  very  readily 
that  the  Indians  were  most  unfriendly.  In  spite  of 
this  they  set  their  beaver  traps,  for  they  saw  that  these 
animals  were  thick. 

As  Crawford  did  not  return  to  camp  one  evening 
it  was  decided  to  make  a  search  for  him.  Dockett, 
who  was  an  outside  trapper  (or  one  who  had  his  traps 
furthest  from  camp),  had  seen  the  missing  man  set 
ting  his  traps  at  a  bend  in  the  river,  at  some  distance 
away.  To  this  point  the  trappers  hurried,  and,  scout 
ing  in  some  cottonwood  groves,  in  order  to  make  sure 
that  there  was  no  ambush,  they  went  in  and  soon  dis 
covered  where  one  of  their  number  had  been  at  work. 
Indian  tracks  were  thick  near  by. 

They  saw  where  a  horse  had  stood,  and,  going  to 
a  thick  bunch  of  willows,  found  the  ground  saturated 
with  blood.  The  Indians  had  lain  hidden  in  this  wil 
low  patch,  knowing  that  the  trapper  would  come  in 
the  morning  to  look  after  his  traps.  They  had  thrown 
Crawford  into  the  river,  which  was  four  feet  deep. 
He  could  be  easily  seen  and  was  soon  pulled  to  dry 
land.  Crawford  was  a  handsome  Texan,  six  feet  tall, 
brave,  kind,  generous,  and  well-educated.  Five  of 
his  traps  were  found,  and  four  dead  beaver.  The 
Indians  had  stolen  what  was  left,  including  his  rifle, 
two  pistols,  and  a  horse.  The  trappers  were  soon  back 


298        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

in  camp  with  the  body  of  their  comrade,  and,  when 
the  men  saw  Crawford,  it  was  plain  that  death  would 
be  the  penalty  to  any  of  the  redskins  who  had  way 
laid  him.  A  grave  was  dug  —  the  trapper  was  laid 
to  rest  in  his  blankets  —  and  no  monument  was  placed 
above  to  mark  the  spot,  for  fear  that  some  wandering 
redskin  would  dig  up  the  remains  of  this  fearless  man 
of  the  plains. 

The  Pah  Utes  were  soon  to  be  encountered,  for 
at  two  in  the  afternoon  the  pickets  signalled :  "  In 
dians  coming  on  horseback."  The  stock  was  corralled 
and  the  scouts  stood  ready  for  action.  The  pickets 
now  rode  in  and  reported  sixty  Indians,  who  made 
their  appearance  upon  a  ridge,  about  three  hundred 
yards  from  camp. 

"  Come  out  and  fight !  Come  out  and  fight !  "  yelled 
the  redskins. 

Crawford's  death  had  cut  the  scouts  down  to  thirty- 
eight,  but  that  did  not  worry  these  hardy  souls.  It 
was  impossible  to  keep  the  men  back,  so  eager  were 
they  to  avenge  the  death  of  their  comrade.  Leaving 
three  trappers  to  take  care  of  camp,  the  others  mounted 
and  started  away  in  the  direction  of  the  Indians. 

When  the  redskins  saw  them  coming  they  gave  yell 
after  yell,  thinking,  no  doubt,  that  this  would  paralyze 
the  white  men  with  fear.  Then  they  divided  and 
charged  from  two  sides.  The  trappers  let  them  get 
to  within  one  hundred  yards,  when  they  halted  and 
brought  their  rifles  into  play.  Dropping  these  upon 
the  ground,  they  charged  with  pistols  in  hand.  Fully 
twenty-five  Indians  fell  before  their  accurate  shots. 


BILL   HAMILTON  299 

This  bewildered  the  savages,  and,  before  they  could 
recover,  the  scouts  were  in  their  midst. 

One  tall  redskin  was  mounted  on  Crawford's  horse. 
He  tried  to  get  away,  but  delayed  entirely  too  long. 
He  was  caught,  knocked  prostrate  to  the  ground,  and 
the  horse,  rifle,  and  pistols  of  the  dead  scout  were 
recovered.  Forty-three  ponies  were  captured.  Very 
few  of  the  Pah  Utes  made  their  escape.  Poor  Craw 
ford,  you  see,  was  thus  revenged  in  full. 

Two  horses  which  the  trappers  rode  were  killed. 
A  few  of  the  scouts  received  arrow  wounds,  but  none 
were  serious.  The  secret  of  the  frontiersmen's  suc 
cess  was  in  making  every  shot  count  in  the  first  volley. 
This  bewildered  the  Indians,  and,  before  they  could 
collect  their  thoughts,  the  plainsmen  were  among  them. 
The  scouts  were  an  effective  body,  and  were  as  well 
drilled  in  the  use  of  both  rifle  and  pistol  as  the  sol 
diers  of  any  nation.  Their  horses,  too,  were  trained 
to  stand  fire  and  to  be  quick  in  evolutions.  The  war- 
whoops  and  yells  of  the  Indians  simply  made  them 
prick  up  their  ears  and  look  unconcerned. 

After  this  affair  the  little  party  received  little  mo 
lestation  from  the  red  men.  At  a  council  it  was  de 
cided  to  move,  as  it  was  not  known  how  many  war 
riors  these  Indians  could  muster,  and  it  was  not  safe 
for  one  or  two  men  to  go  any  distance  from  camp 
after  furs.  The  hardy  adventurers  travelled  to  the 
Laramie  River,  where  twenty-five  of  them  determined 
to  go  back  to  St.  Louis  and  to  take  their  furs  with 
them.  The  original  thirteen  all  returned  to  the  Far 
West;  Williams  going  to  Santa  Fe,  accompanied  by 


300        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Perkins  and  six  others.  It  was  a  sad  parting  for  all, 
particularly  for  Bill  Hamilton,  who  had  grown  to 
love  his  comrades  like  brothers. 

Bill  was  now  a  seasoned  trapper,  and  the  rest  of 
his  career  on  the  plains  was  marked  by  many  hazard 
ous  adventures  with  the  redskins.  He  went  to  Cali 
fornia,  during  the  gold  excitement,  was  in  the  famous 
Modoc  war  of  1856,  where  he  belonged  to  the  "  Buck 
skin  Rangers,"  and  was  employed  as  a  scout  in  the 
uprising  of  the  Sioux  in  1876,  which  was  so  disastrous 
to  General  Custer  and  his  command.  He  was  among 
those  who  followed  Crazy  Horse  to  his  end,  and 
finally  resigned  from  the  service  of  the  Government  to 
resume  the  free  and  independent  life  of  a  trapper.  At 
eighty-two  years  of  age  he  was  living  a  peaceful  and 
contented  life  at  Columbus,  Montana,  where  —  as  he 
says  in  his  biography  —  "I  am  thankful  that  I  can 
still  enjoy  and  appreciate  the  wonderful  beauties  of 
nature." 

A  true  plainsman,  a  great  shot,  a  nervy  fighter,  — 
such  was  "  Uncle  Bill  "  Hamilton.  At  the  present 
time  there  is  no  wild  and  adventurous  West  to  create 
such  characters  as  this,  for  bad  Indians  have  passed 
away  forever. 


UNCLE   JOB   WITHERSPOON: 

AND   HIS    EXCITING   ADVENTURES    WITH 
THE   BLACKFEET 

NO  more  famous  plainsman  ever  lived  upon  the 
Wyoming  prairies  than  Uncle  Job  Wither- 
spoon :  a  veteran  of  many  an  Indian  battle : 
of  several  tussles  with  grizzly  bears;  and  of  frequent 
brushes  with  desperadoes  and  bad  men  who  had  taken 
to  the  hills  in  order  to  escape  jail.  Born  about  1830, 
the  old  fellow  was  still  hale  and  hearty  in  the  year 
1898,  when  he  was  piloting  a  number  of  young  men 
through  the  intricacies  of  the  Rocky  Mountains;  a 
region  which  he  had  lived  in  for  many  years. 

"  Well,  youngsters,"  said  the  veteran  trapper  to  the 
party  of  young  fellows  who  were  upon  an  amateur 
hunting  excursion,  "  when  you've  toted  traps  and  pel 
tries,  and  fit  Injuns  as  long  as  I  have,  you'll  sartainly 
have  considerable  more  experience  than  you  have 
now." 

The  old  fellow  was  sitting  with  his  back  against  a 
tree  trunk,  near  the  Grosventre  River,  and  before  him, 
in  a  semi-circle,  lay  five  young  men.  All  looked  up  at 
him  eagerly,  for  they  were  in  a  country  which  had 
once  been  peopled  by  hostile  redskins.  It  was  now 
safe,  for  the  savage  tribesmen  were  upon  reservations. 
Still,  the  air  of  romance  lay  over  the  beautiful  land 

301 


302        FAMOUS   FEONTIEKSMEN 

and  added  a  zest  to  their  expedition,  which  would 
have  been  absent  had  they  been  in  a  more  unhistoric 
country. 

"Ha!  Ha!  boys !"  continued  Uncle  Job.  "You 
think  that  you'll  have  a  mighty  nice  time  out  on  the 
trapping  grounds,  and  I  ain't  going  to  say  as  how 
you  won't.  But,  take  my  word  for  it,  ye'll  wish  your 
selves  back  in  th'  settlements  many  a  time  afore  you'll 
get  there.  What  with  fighting  and  hiding  from  Injuns 
and  them  pesky  grizzlies,  and  livin'  sometimes  fer 
weeks  together  on  nothin'  but  pine  cones  an'  such 
trash  as  luck  happened  to  throw  in  my  way  to  keep 
body  an'  soul  together,  my  time  used  to  be  anything 
but  'specially  agreeable,  until  I  got  used  to  it.  Then 
I  found  it  barely  endurable.  It's  a  hard  life,  any 
way,  boys ! " 

"  My,  my,  Uncle  Job,"  said  one  of  the  youngsters, 
"  why, then,  do  you  go  back  to  the  plains?  " 

The  trapper  laughed. 

"  Well,  there,  boys,  yer  have  me,  anyhow,"  he  an 
swered.  "  Ter  be  right  down  honest  with  yer,  I  likes 
it.  It's  a  fact,  as  sure  as  dry  prairie  grass  will  burn, 
and  I  wouldn't  live  a  whole  month  in  Saint  Lewy  ( St. 
Louis)  fer  all  th'  money  there  if  I  could  not  be  al 
lowed  to  spend  th'  balance  of  my  time  in  th'  mountain 
country.  I'm  used  to  it,  youngsters,  and  city  air  is 
rank  poison  to  me ;  besides,  I'd  spoil  fer  th'  want  of 
a  fight  with  some  of  th'  red  varmints  of  Blackfeet, 
Pawnees,  and  Poncas;  for,  my  boys,  that's  the  best 
part  of  the  life  on  th'  plains.  And  now,"  continued 
the  old  trapper,  "  I'll  tell  yer  about  a  fight,  and  a  long 


UNCLE  JOB  WITHEKSPOON      303 

battle  it  was,  too,  which  I  had  with  a  party  of  them 
cowardly  Black  feet  over  on  the  Sweet- water  River. 
It  was  something  over  twenty  years  ago,  and  one  fall 
when  I  was  trapping  on  the  head-waters  of  the 
Columbia." 

The  boys  drew  closer  and  gazed  at  the  old  fellow 
with  wide  open  eyes. 

"  We  had  about  a  dozen  greenhorns  at  our  post, 
just  like  yourselves.  We  were  only  a  few  months 
from  the  settlements  and  these  fellows  hadn't  yet  got 
toughened  to  the  kind  of  a  life  we  had  to  lead.  Some 
of  'em  was  about  dyin'  with  th'  ager,  and  we  hadn't 
a  dose  of  medicine,  or  even  a  blessed  drop  of  spirits 
to  save  'em  with.  So,  as  I  knew  every  inch  of  th' 
country  from  th'  Pacific  to  Saint  Lewy,  I  was  ordered 
by  th'  head  trader  of  th'  post  to  go  to  Fort  Laramie 
and  bring  back  a  supply  of  calomel,  Queen  Anne  pow 
ders,  an'  sich  truck  fer  our  sick  men." 

:<  You  had  your  nerve  with  you,"  interrupted  one 
of  the  boys. 

"  Always  had  plenty  of  that,"  continued  Uncle  Job. 
"  The  distance  was  about  six  hundred  miles  over  the 
mountains.  We  had  come  to  the  western  side  of  the 
range  the  spring  before,  by  way  of  the  Sweet-water 
Valley  Pass,  and  I  concluded  to  take  that  route  again 
toward  Laramie. 

"  Wall,  things  went  well  with  me  for  some  time. 
Arter  I  got  over  the  main  ridge  I  kept  along  the  south 
side  of  th'  Wind  River  Mountain  and  stopped  one  day 
on  th'  Green  River,  in  order  to  make  me  a  new  pair 
of  moccasins.  The  rough  travelling  over  th'  hills  had 


304        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

worn  mine  out  and  left  me  barefoot.  While  I  was 
stitching  away  at  my  shoes  I  remembered  a  cache  (a 
supply  of  provisions  hidden  or  stowed  away  until  it 
should  be  convenient  to  remove  them)  which  a  party 
of  us  had  made  the  spring  before  about  a  day's  travel 
out  of  my  regular  route.  It  was  on  the  North  Branch 
of  the  Sweet-water  River.  We  had  started  from  the 
head  of  the  Platte  on  our  way  to  the  Columbia,  with 
a  small  drove  of  pack-mules  loaded  with  provisions 
for  the  new  post,  and  when  on  the  South  Branch  one 
of  th'  creeturs  give  out  and  we  had  to  cache  the  cargo. 
It  was  a  package  of  jerked  venison  and  a  sack  of 
flour,  with  a  small  bag  of  rice  for  th'  sick,  when  we 
had  'em,  and  a  five  gallon  keg  of  hard  cider.  It  is  a 
common  practice  with  us  trappers  to  cache  our  pro 
visions  when  we  know  they  will  be  safe  for  some 
future  journey  that  way. 

"  Wall,  as  I  worked  at  my  moccasins,  all  at  once  I 
got  to  be  mighty  thirsty,  and  a  vision  of  that  five 
gallon  keg  of  delicious  cider  began  to  come  into  my 
head.  Says  I  to  myself,  says  I :  '  Job,  wouldn't  you 
like  to  have  a  little  taste  of  that  sweet  beverage,  'spe 
cially  when  nobody  at  the  post  would  be  either  any 
wiser  or  any  poorer  for  it  ?  '  I  reckoned  that  I  would. 
So  I  finished  sewing  up  my  buckskin,  an'  started  next 
morning,  bright  an'  early,  for  the  cache.  Now,  as 
I  told  yew  all,  it  was  one  day's  journey  from  my 
route,  and  it  would  take  me  another  day  to  put  me 
on  the  right  course  again.  That,  you  know,  would 
use  up  two  days  that  I  certainly  ought  to  give  to  my 
sick  comrades  at  the  post,  But  I  argued  this  way  to 


UNCLE  JOB   WITHERSPOON      305 

myself :  '  Now,  I'm  pesky  thirsty  fer  a  drink  of  that 
sweet  cider.  I'm  actually  feelin'  bad  fer  th'  want  uv 
it.  If  I  gratify  my  natural  longing  I'll  certainly  feel 
better  arter  it,  and  I  can  then  tread  out  so  much  faster 
that  I  shall  more'n  make  up  for  th'  lost  time.'  And 
that's  the  way  that  I  reconciled  it  to  my  conscience. 

"  Wall,  I  reached  the  South  Branch  in  th'  middle 
of  the  afternoon,  and  going  down  the  stream  a  little 
ways  from  where  I  struck  it,  I  found  the  cave  where 
we  had  cached  our  provisions.  It  was  a  pretty  large 
one,  too.  I  crawled  into  the  narrow  mouth  of  it  and 
drew  my  rifle  in  arter  me;  and,  as  soon  as  my  eyes 
got  kinder  used  tew  th'  dim  light,  right  up  there  in 
the  corner  I  found  everything  all  right.  There  was 
that  jolly  little  red  keg  of  cider,  and  it  seemed  to 
actually  laugh  all  over  at  the  sight  of  an  old  friend. 
And  well  it  might,  for  it  had  been  shut  up  there  in 
the  dark  for  more'n  six  months  with  nothing  but  the 
flour,  the  rice,  and  the  dried  meat  to  keep  it  com 
pany. 

"  I  pulled  out  my  sharp-pointed  bowie  knife  and 
tapped  the  head  of  th'  cider  barrel  in  no  time.  But 
just  as  I  raised  the  little  fellow  to  get  a  taste  of  him 
I  heard  the  tramping  of  horses'  feet  outside,  and  the 
howlin'  of  twenty  or  thirty  infernal  Blackfeet.  Gee 
Whillikins !  I  had  ter  drop  th'  keg  before  a  bit  of  th' 
amber  liquid  had  wet  my  thirsty  lips.  Well  was  it 
that  I  did  so,  for  in  that  moment  the  entrance  of  the 
place  was  darkened  by  a  rascally  Injun  who  had  been 
fool  enough  to  follow  me.  Boys!  I  was  plum 
skeered ! 


306        FAMOUS   FEONTIERSMEN 

"  What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  raised  my  rifle  and  fired  at 
Mr.  Redskin,  who  dropped  dead  upon  the  ground, 
uttering  a  wild  war-whoop  as  he  fell.  His  comrades 
crept  into  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  seized  him  by  the 
feet,  and  gave  a  terrible  yell  when  they  found  that 
he'd  been  wiped  out  of  existence.  While  they  were 
tugging  away  at  the  old  fellow  I  busied  myself  in  re 
loading  my  rifle  in  order  to  get  ready  for  the  next 
visitor.  Although  th'  pesky  redskins  kept  up  a  terrible 
hullabaloo  they  didn't  attempt  to  crawl  into  the  cave 
any  more. 

'  Thinks  I,  '  Now's  your  time,  old  boy,  if  you  ever 
hope  to  have  any  refreshment.'  So,  raising  the  little 
cask  of  cider,  I  took  a  good,  long,  glorious  drink.  I 
tell  you,  boys,  that  was  delicious,  for  my  throat  was 
all  parched  and  dry  from  alkali  dust.  It  braced  me 
right  up  and  I'd  hardly  had  it  down  my  throat  when 
I  felt  that  I  was  a  host  in  myself  and  could  handle, 
single-handed,  all  of  the  Blackfeet  west  of  the  Mis 
sissippi. 

"  Arter  a  few  moments  three  or  four  rifles  were 
cautiously  poked  into  the  hole,  and  were  fired  at 
random  into  the  cave  toward  me.  I  ducked  to  one 
side,  and  let  'em  peg  away.  They  were  only  using 
up  their  ammunition,  an'  th'  sooner  they  got  rid  of 
that  the  better  it  was  for  me. 

"  Next  they  sent  a  shower  of  arrows  through  the 
opening,  but  with  no  better  effect  than  with  their 
bullets.  In  the  meanwhile  I  had  found  a  little  hole 
through  the  rocks  just  large  enough  for  the  barrel  of 
my  gun,  and,  watching  a  good  chance,  when  the  var- 


UNCLE  JOB  WITHERSPOON      307 

mints  were  thick  about  the  mouth,  I  took  good  aim 
and  popped  away  at  them.  By  the  Jumping  Jingoes ! 
boys,  but  I  sent  half  an  ounce  of  lead  through  the 
bodies  of  no  less  than  three  of  them  at  once.  At  this 
th'  Injuns  fell  back,  yelling  vengeance,  an'  I  took 
another  refreshing  pull  at  th'  cider.  '  For,'  says  I  to 
myself,  '  Job,  now  it's  your  treat,  and  here's  to  as 
good  luck  the  next  shot.'  But  th'  varmints  didn't  try 
th'  shooting  game  any  more,  as  they  found  that  this 
was  a  game  which  I  could  play  as  well  as  they,  them 
selves.  Boys !  I  held  all  the  trump  cards !  They  kept 
losing  their  hands,  while  I  continued  to  hold  my 
own. 

"  Arter  they  had  been  quiet  fer  a  considerable  time 
I  poked  my  head  out  of  the  cave  and  peeped  down  the 
stream,  where  I  could  see  the  cowardly  wolves  gather 
ing  armsful  of  dry  sticks  and  grass,  which  I  at  once 
knew  that  they  intended  to  bring  up  to  the  cavern 
and  smoke  me  out.  I  hadn't  thought  of  this  before, 
and,  thinks  I,  the  rascals  have  got  me  now,  sure.  I 
can  fight  Injuns  so  long  as  my  ammunition  holds  out, 
but  when  it  comes  to  a  fire  and  smoke  I  ain't  a  match 
nohow  for  them  fellers,  shut  up  as  I  be  in  these  here 
limestone  rocks. 

"  Presently  th'  savages  came  back  again  to  th' 
mouth  of  th'  cave  in  such  a  direction  that  I  couldn't 
bring  old  Kill-Deer  to  bear  upon  'em,  and  piling  up 
their  combustibles  they  set  fire  to  'em.  The  wind 
happened  to  be  blowing  directly  into  th'  cave,  and, 
in  a  few  moments,  a  nasty  smudge  began  to  suffocate 
me.  I  had  to  crawl  farther  and  farther  into  the  place 


308        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

as  the  smoke  followed  me;  and  I  could  hear  the  In 
juns  pilin'  on  the  grass  and  wood  all  the  time.  They 
found  that  they  couldn't  get  me  out  by  any  other 
means,  and  were  now  endeavorin'  to  choke  me  to 
death  by  their  horrid  smoke.  Fortunately,  as  I 
shrank  away  from  it,  I  saw  a  little  streak  of  daylight 
ahead  of  me.  It  was  a  crevice  in  the  rock  through 
which  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  streaming,  as 
much  as  to  say:  '  Be  of  good  heart,  Job;  they  cannot 
smoke  you  out  as  long  as  you  choose  to  breathe 
through  this  nice  little  air  hole.' 

"  I  ran  to  the  crevice,  and  laid  down,  breathing  the 
pure  air,  and  laughing  at  the  redskins,  who  were  yell 
ing  and  dancing  for  joy  at  the  cute  trick  they  thought 
that  they  were  playing  upon  me.  Luck  was  certainly 
with  me,  boys,  for  through  the  crevice  that  admitted 
the  light  and  the  air  I  discovered  a  nice  little  stream 
trickling  away,  while  a  tiny  pool  of  fresh  water  had 
formed  upon  the  floor  of  the  cavern.  Now,  thought  I, 
if  I  only  had  the  provisions  with  me,  I  could  last  until 
the  Injuns  got  tired  and  had  to  go  away.  So,  holding 
my  breath,  I  crawled  back  again  into  the  smoke,  and 
catching  hold  of  the  little  keg  of  cider  in  one  hand, 
and  a  package  of  jerked  meat  in  the  other,  I  went 
back  to  my  breathing-hole  and  had  a  comfortable 
supper.  The  red  fiends  outside  were  screeching  and 
yelling  like  mad  men. 

"  Arter  I  had  satisfied  my  hunger,  and  had  taken 
another  pull  at  the  delicious  apple  juice,  I  laid  down 
for  a  nap,  for  I  knew  that  the  Injuns  wouldn't  trouble 
me  while  they  kept  up  their  smoke. 


UNCLE  JOB  WITHERSPOON      309 

"  Wall,  boys,  I  tell  you  that  I  had  a  pretty  good 
night's  rest,  considerin'  that  I  had  tew  keep  one  eye 
open.  In  the  morning,  after  the  smoke  had  settled, 
I  sat  quietly  at  the  side  of  the  opening,  expectin'  Mr. 
Injun  to  creep  through  arter  my  scalp.  They  thought 
that  I  had  given  up  the  ghost,  and  were  all  ready  to 
make  a  speedy  end  of  me.  But  they  had  reckoned 
without  their  host,  for  no  sooner  did  a  Blackfoot 
show  his  head  than  pop!  a  little  slug  of  lead  from 
Mister  Kill-Deer  made  him  remember  that  I  was  still 
breathing. 

"  Them  Injuns,  I  reckon,  thought  that  they  had 
holed  Old  Nick  himself,  for  they  was  plum  surprised 
when  they  heard  the  bark  of  my  trusty  old  rifle. 
When  they  saw  another  of  their  number  fall,  they 
even  forgot  to  yell.  They  found  that  smoke  couldn't 
kill  the  old  man,  and  so  they  tried  another  plan. 
Their  game  was  to  starve  me  out.  But  here,  boys,  I 
held  the  trump  cards  again.  The  fact  was,  they 
hadn't  the  least  idea  that  the  cave  had  been  used  as 
a  cache;  and  when  they  saw  me  take  to  it  they  thought 
that  I  had  discovered  them  and  was  hiding  away 
from  them  there.  The  old  boys  didn't  realize  that  I 
had  a  store  of  good  things  piled  up  and  ready  for  use. 

"  I  could  understand  their  gibberish  well  enough  to 
learn  that  they  had  determined  to  stand  guard  over 
me  until  I  should  be  forced  to  yield  to  starvation,  at 
least.  But  I  had  fully  two  months'  provisions  in  the 
cave  and  that  would  hold  out  for  some  time.  I  deter 
mined,  therefore,  to  pass  the  time  as  agreeably  as 
possible. 


310       FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  I  could  hear  that  parties  of  Injuns  rode  away 
from  the  place  every  morning,  and  others  came  to 
take  their  place.  They  stood  guard  over  me  by  turns. 
At  length,  after  four  days,  when  they  supposed  that 
I  was  about  starved  out  to  such  a  degree  that  I  was 
no  longer  dangerous  to  approach,  a  redskin  poked 
his  head  into  the  opening  and  began  to  crawl  cau 
tiously  into  the  cave.  I  was  waiting  for  the  fel 
low. 

"  Boys !  I  made  a  spring  like  a  panther.  It  was 
his  life  or  mine,  and  my  long  knife  did  the  work. 
Presently  another  followed,  and  him  I  served  as  I 
had  the  first  one.  Arter  about  a  half  an  hour  an 
other  Injun  put  his  head  down  into  the  hole  and 
called  to  his  comrades.  At  this  moment,  I  levelled 
my  rifle  at  him  and  let  him  have  it.  That  morn 
ing,  my  friends,  1  had  wiped  out  three  more  of  my 
persecutors. 

"  They  did  not  trouble  me  any  for  some  days.  I 
think  it  must  have  been  nigh  onter  a  week,  when, 
making  sure  that  I  was  dead  from  starvation,  another 
attempt  was  made  to  enter  the  cavern.  I  kept  at  a 
distance  until  two  of  them  had  come  in,  when  I  sprang 
upon  them,  and  with  old  Kill-Deer  and  my  knife, 
made  a  finish  of  them  also. 

"  Boys,  th'  Injuns  was  now  plum  skeered.  They 
were  sure  that  they  had  none  but  the  Evil  One  to  deal 
with.  In  fact  I  blackened  my  face  and  looked  out  of 
the  cave  at  one  fellow  who  had  ventured  near.  He 
gave  an  awful  cry  and  ran  away,  howling.  About 
an  hour  afterwards,  filling  the  air  with  their  yells  of 


UNCLE  JOB  WITHEESPOON      311 

disappointed  vengeance,  the  whole  outfit  mounted 
their  mustangs,  and  I  could  hear  them  riding  away 
down  the  banks  of  the  river. 

"  *  O-o-o-e-e !  O-o-o-e-e ! '  they  wailed ;  and,  boys, 
I  sure  did  do  some  tall  chuckling. 

"  Arter  a  while  I  felt  sure  that  the  coast  was  clear 
of  th'  red  vermin.  So  I  ventured  into  th'  open  air, 
and,  mounting  upon  the  top  of  a  river  bank,  I  could 
see  them  spurring  away  across  the  prairie  as  if  the 
Evil  Spirit  were  arter  them.  Boys!  I  had  been  pent 
up  in  that  dark  hole  for  more  than  three  weeks,  as 
near  as  I  could  guess;  so  the  strong  light  of  the  sun 
nearly  blinded  me  at  first.  Arter  a  while  I  got  used 
to  it.  I  tell  you  what,  boys!  if  this  green  earth  and 
th'  blue  skies  ever  looked  beautiful  to  my  eyes,  they 
did  on  that  blessed  morning  when  I  crept  outen  that 
living  grave,  for  yer  must  remember  that  there  wuz 
dead  Blackfeet  all  around  me." 

"  But,  Uncle  Job,"  interrupted  one  of  his  hearers. 
"  How  did  your  sick  men  at  the  post  get  along  with 
out  the  medicine  ?  " 

The  old  trapper  looked  sad. 

"  Poorly!  Poorly!  "  said  he.  "  Two  of  them  had 
died  before  I  returned.  They  waited  for  ten  days  for 
me  to  come  back,  and,  finding  that  I  didn't,  they  sent 
another  man  to  Fort  Laramie  for  the  medicine.  The 
others  were  saved. 

"  Arter  an  absence  of  about  a  month  I  reached  the 
post  again.  As  I  didn't  want  to  acknowledge  that  I 
had  turned  out  of  my  way  merely  for  the  sake  of  a 
taste  of  some  excellent  cider  while  my  comrades  were 


312        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

suffering  for  the  want  of  what  I  had  been  sent 
for,  I  said  nothing  about  it,  beyond  the  fact  that 
I  had  been  a  prisoner  among  the  Injuns  and 
had  managed  to  make  my  escape  arter  a  hard 
fight. 

"  Some  months  arterwards,  when  a  party  of  us 
were  trappin'  out  on  th'  Medicine  Bow  Range,  we 
concluded  that  we  would  make  a  visit  to  our  cache. 
We  rode  long  and  hard  to  reach  there.  Finally  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  cave,  and  I  recognized  the  place 
where  I  had  had  a  desperate  battle  for  my  life.  We 
entered  the  cavern  and  found  it  just  as  I  had  left  it, 
with  the  exception  that  the  dead  Blackfeet  warriors 
had  been  removed.  The  sack  of  flour  and  bag  of  rice 
were  just  as  the  other  party  had  cached  them,  and  — 
not  greatly  to  my  surprise  —  the  gallant  little  cask  of 
cider  had  disappeared.  The  dried  venison  had  also 
vanished." 

The  old  trapper  smiled  benignly  upon  his  listeners. 
"  The  fact  is,  boys,"  said  he,  "  although  I  had  a  pretty 
onlikely  time  of  it  with  them  cussed  Blackfeet  I  felt 
so  awful  ashamed  of  th'  hull  affair  that  I  didn't  let 
on  a  single  word  about  it.  Th'  truth  is,  I  wuz  plum 
angry  with  myself  fer  gettin*  caught  in  that  ar  cave 
simply  because  I  hankered  after  some  sparkling 
cider." 

At  this  all  the  boys  burst  into  loud  laughter,  and 
the  old  trapper  retired  to  the  fire  in  order  to  broil 
some  antelope  steaks  for  supper. 

"Fellers,  he's  the  real  thing,"  said  one.  "Too 
bad  that  those  good  days  aren't  with  us  now,  for 


UNCLE  JOB  WITHERSPOON      313 

then,  we,  too,  might  have  some  adventures  of  our 


own." 


But  the  old  times  of  roving  Blackfeet,  and  desper 
ate  battles  for  life  and  for  liberty,  had  long  passed 
away. 


HENRY    SHANE: 

HEROIC    SCOUT    OF   THE    PLAINS 
OF   TEXAS 

ONE  day  a  young  fellow  was  hunting  deer 
near  Pinto  Creek,  twelve  miles  from  Fort 
Clark  in  Texas.  His  name  was  Henry 
Shane,  and,  although  a  German  by  birth,  he  had  early 
emigrated  to  the  Lone  Star  State,  where  he  had 
joined  the  United  States  army  and  had  fought  in  the 
more  important  battles  of  the  Mexican  War.  Deer 
were  plentiful,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  had 
killed  a  fat  buck.  Laying  his  gun  down  upon  the 
ground,  the  youthful  hunter  took  out  his  long  knife 
and  prepared  to  skin  the  game. 

Suddenly  the  sharp  crack  of  a  twig  made  him  look 
up.  He  shrank  back  with  a  cry,  for  before  him  were 
six  large  and  gaudily  painted  redskins.  One  had 
seized  his  rifle,  another  pointed  a  gun  at  his  breast. 
It  was  useless  to  run. 

"  How !  How !  I  surrender !  "  said  the  young 
Texan.  "  You  no  hurt  me." 

"Ugh!  Ugh!"  grunted  one  of  the  foremost  red 
men  —  evidently  a  chief.  "  We  want  you,  paleface." 

The  Indians  now  seized  the  unfortunate  ranchman, 
tied  his  arms  behind  his  back,  and  —  after  whipping 

314 


HENRY   SHANE  315 

him  severely  with  a  pair  of  rope-hobbles,  which  they 
used  to  confine  their  ponies  —  rode  off  with  him. 

"  Oh,  my,"  thought  poor  Henry  Shane,  "  they'll  fix 
me  now,  sure.  I'm  afraid  that  it's  all  up  with 
me!" 

The  redskins  moved  off  quickly  towards  the  north 
west,  and  had  not  gone  very  far  before  they  were 
joined  by  nine  more  Indians,  making  fifteen  in  all. 
They  travelled  all  that  day  and  part  of  the  night. 
Then  they  stopped  to  rest  and  eat.  Here  they  again 
rained  blows  upon  the  back  of  poor  Henry,  but  for 
what  reason  he  was  at  a  loss  to  know,  as  he  had  done 
nothing  to  warrant  such  treatment.  For  dinner  they 
presented  him  with  a  small  piece  of  burned  deer  meat 
with  the  hair  still  on  it.  The  prisoner  made  a  pretty 
poor  meal  of  such  provender. 

The  braves  took  a  good  rest,  and  did  not  break 
camp  until  dawn.  Then  they  bundled  up  their  goods 
and  were  off.  They  travelled  rapidly  until  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  they  again  made  a  halt 
near  a  crystal  spring.  They  had  hurried  along,  for 
they  feared  pursuit,  and  in  this  they  were  quite  right, 
for  some  Mexican  herders  had  heard  Shane's  gun 
when  he  killed  the  deer.  As  he  did  not  return,  later, 
they  went  in  search  of  him,  rinding  the  slain  deer  and 
a  fresh  Indian  trail.  "  He  is  either  killed  or  cap 
tured,"  they  thought.  "  Probably  the  latter,  as  we 
cannot  find  his  body."  News  was  at  once  carried  to 
the  fort,  and  a  squad  of  soldiers  was  ordered  to  fol 
low  the  Indians.  They  were  guided  by  an  excellent 
Mexican  called  "  Old  Roka,"  who  had  lived  with  the 


316        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

savages  for  many  years  and  knew  their  methods  of 
fighting. 

The  Indians  were  camped  near  a  cedar-brake,  and 
the  blue-coats  rode  up,  just  as  they  had  finished  break 
fast.  "  Old  Roka  "  led  the  soldiers  into  their  very 
midst,  before  they  knew  it.  Even  young  Henry 
Shane  did  not  suspect  the  presence  of  the  troops  until 
they  were  right  among  the  redskins.  The  latter 
picked  up  their  own  rifles  and  other  arms.  For  a  few 
moments  they  had  a  lively  fight  with  the  blue-coats. 
Bullets  and  arrows  were  flying  thick  and  fast,  when 
young  Henry  decided  to  skip  into  the  neighboring 
cane-brake.  He  knew  that  it  was  a  custom  of  the 
Indians  to  kill  their  captives,  when  they  were  attacked, 
so  he  decided  to  get  away  before  they  could  harm  him. 

As  Henry  dashed  away,  an  Indian  fired  an  arrow 
after  him,  which  went  through  his  arm  and  remained 
fixed  there.  This  did  not  stop  the  young  pioneer. 
He  raced  onward,  and  breaking  off  the  handle  of  the 
arrow,  pulled  it  out,  —  then  stopped  and  listened. 
The  fight  was  still  going  on,  the  Indians  were  yelling 
and  the  carbines  in  the  hands  of  the  soldiers  still  con 
tinued  to  pop.  Some  of  the  Indians  seemed  to  be 
endeavoring  to  make  their  escape  into  the  cane-brake, 
so  the  terrified  Henry  continued  his  flight,  determined 
to  make  his  way  back  to  the  fort,  without  waiting  for 
the  soldiers. 

As  young  Shane  made  off,  he  saw  four  redskins 
fall  before  the  bullets  of  the  troops.  He  pressed  for 
ward  and  came  to  a  wide  creek  which  it  was  impossible 
to  cross.  He  followed  it  all  day  and,  when  night 


HENEY   SHANE  317 

came,  climbed  into  a  tree  to  spend  the  evening.  A 
mountain  lion  began  to  screech  and  call  near  by  and 
this  kept  him  awake  for  some  time.  Finally  he  fell 
into  deep  slumber. 

When  daylight  came,  the  fleeing  pioneer  dropped 
down  from  his  perch  and  continued  towards  the  fort. 
This  he  eventually  reached.  He  had  been  forty-eight 
hours  without  food,  except  for  the  little  piece  of 
burnt  meat  which  the  savages  had  given  him.  He 
was  very  weak,  and  was  welcomed  like  a  long  lost 
brother.  The  soldiers  had  completely  annihilated  the 
redskins,  and,  after  the  fight,  had  looked  everywhere 
for  the  young  pioneer.  As  they  could  not  find  him 
they  had  given  him  up  for  lost  and  had  returned  to 
the  fort.  When  they  saw  the  lost  frontiersman,  they 
gave  three  long  cheers  for  the  "  young  cuss  who  got 
away.  Hurrah !  Hurrah !  Hurrah !  " 

Not  long  after  this  exciting  affair  Henry  Shane 
settled  upon  a  broad  creek,  called  Chicon  Creek,  which 
ran  near  the  Anna  Catchi  Mountains.  A  few  settlers 
were  near  him  and  the  Indians  were  quite  numerous. 
They  were  also  very  hostile  to  the  whites,  and  the 
young  pioneer  soon  had  a  very  serious  affair  with 
them. 

One  day  he  was  riding  by  the  San  Miguel  ranch, 
which  was  an  old-time  Mexican  ranch  with  a  rock 
wall  around  it  and  an  entrance  through  a  gate.  When 
he  arrived  at  this  place  he  could  see  no  one  stirring. 
The  gate  was  open,  so  he  dismounted  and  went  in. 
He  saw  no  signs  of  life.  A  little  dog  barked  at  him, 
—  that  was  all. 


318        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Upon  a  smooth  piece  of  sheet-iron,  which  lay  near 
two  rocks,  were  several  cakes  of  bread.  They  had 
been  turned  and  were  burned  upon  the  under  side. 
As  the  fire  still  gleamed  beneath  them,  the  pioneer 
was  sure  that  something  was  wrong.  He  could  see 
no  one,  —  so  continued  upon  his  way. 

His  horse  trotted  slowly  along,  and  Henry  soon 
crossed  a  creek  where  he  found  a  dead  Mexican.  It 
was  evident  that  the  "Greaser"  had  been  killed  by 
Indians,  for  his  body  was  full  of  arrows,  and  near  by 
was  his  horse,  lying  motionless  upon  the  ground. 
The  Mexican  had  been  endeavoring  to  get  to  the 
ranch  when  the  Indians  caught  up  with  him.  They 
first  killed  his  horse  and  then  killed  him. 

Shane  rode  onward.  As  he  came  upon  the  top  of 
a  ridge  he  saw  a  broncho  tied  some  distance  off.  He 
knew  enough  about  Indians  to  keep  well  away  from 
the  animal.  So  —  riding  around  him  —  he  continued 
upon  his  journey.  He  soon  saw  the  wisdom  of  his 
move,  for  as  he  rode  onward  he  beheld  an  Indian 
crouching  near  his  pony.  Soon  five  others  came  into 
view  and  started  after  him  at  a  hard  gallop. 

The  plainsman  pushed  rapidly  along  and  came  to 
a  ranch  where  there  was  a  crowd  of  excited  Mexicans, 
some  of  whom  were  from  the  place  where  the  dead 
Mexican  had  been  employed.  The  murdered  vaquero, 
they  said,  had  been  away  from  the  ranch  when  it  was 
attacked.  The  Indians  had  headed  him  off  and  had 
killed  him,  after  he  had  made  a  run  to  get  inside  the 
walls  of  the  adobe  house. 

"We    outnumber    the    infernal    redskins/'    cried 


HENEY   SHANE  319 

Henry.  "  Come  on,  boys,  let's  go  back  and  clean  'em 
tip!" 

"  We're  with  you !  "  cried  the  others,  and,  quickly 
mounting  their  mustangs,  they  were  soon  started 
towards  the  place  where  the  Indians  had  last  been 
seen.  As  they  rode  over  a  small  hillock,  the  murder 
ous  redskins  could  be  sighted  far  below  on  the  plain. 
They  were  intent  upon  setting  fire  to  the  ranch  build 
ings  and  did  not  notice  the  approach  of  Shane  and  his 
companions. 

"  Spread  out,  boys !  "  cried  the  now  excited  plains 
man.  "  Spread  out  and  try  to  surround  the  red 
devils !  " 

The  Mexicans  and  Texan  vaqueros  followed  his 
lead,  and,  circling  about  the  red  men,  soon  closed  in 
upon  them  from  three  sides.  Rifles  began  to  ring 
out,  and,  with  a  wild  yelping,  the  Indians  started  to 
retreat.  As  they  did  so,  Henry  Shane  waved  his  som 
brero  in  the  air,  and  all  raced  after  the  red  men,  on 
the  dead  gallop. 

Now  was  a  beautiful  running  fight.  The  Indians 
could  not  aim  at  all  well,  from  the  backs  of  their 
ponies.  Their  bullets  went  very  wide.  The  whites, 
on  the  other  hand,  shot  two  of  the  Indian  mustangs; 
and,  although  their  owners  fell  to  the  ground,  both 
swung  themselves  to  the  backs  of  other  ponies  and 
safely  rode  off,  hanging  to  the  waists  of  the  riders. 
Finally  they  all  got  away  in  a  deep  canyon,  and  am 
buscaded  themselves  so  well  behind  rocks  and  boul 
ders  that  the  plainsmen  decided  to  withdraw.  The 
Indians  had  not  hit  a  single  white  man. 


320        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

Soon  after  this  event  Henry  Shane  purchased 
some  sheep  and  took  them  up  on  the  Foris  River  to 
graze.  He  lived  in  a  tent,  with  one  companion.  They 
pitched  their  canvas  behind  a  brush  fence. 

One  night  Henry  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  this 
fence,  boiling  some  coffee,  with  no  thought  that  any 
redskins  were  within  twenty  miles  of  him.  But  at 
this  very  moment  several  were  prowling  around  his 
camp  and  had  noticed  the  position  which  he  was  in. 
One  of  them  —  bolder  than  the  rest  —  slipped  up  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fence  with  the  intention  of 
poking  his  gun  through  the  brush  and  shooting  the 
pioneer  in  the  back.  As  he  shoved  the  muzzle  of  his 
gun  through  the  dry  twigs,  he  made  so  much  noise 
that  the  plainsman  heard  him.  Turning  to  his  Mexi 
can  herder,  Felipe  Flores,  he  cried  out: 

"  Felipe !    What  is  that  noise  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  rat,"  replied  Felipe.  "  I  saw  one  running 
through  the  brush." 

As  he  ceased  speaking  the  Indian  attempted  to 
shoot,  but  his  gun  snapped  and  hung  fire.  The  fron 
tiersman  heard  the  noise  and  jumped  to  his  feet. 
When  he  did  so,  the  gun  went  off,  as  the  Indian  at 
tempted  to  jerk  it  back  through  the  brush,  and  the 
ball  passed  through  Shane's  hat.  The  Indian  ran 
away,  before  the  startled  sheepman  could  seize  a  rifle 
and  shoot  in  return. 

The  frontiersman  had  certainly  had  a  narrow  es 
cape,  and  he  determined  in  future  to  be  more  careful. 
Next  morning  he  rode  to  a  neighboring  ranch  and 
discovered  that  the  Indians  had  been  there  and  had 


HENRY   SHANE  321 

carried  off  twenty-five  horses.  The  ranchers  were 
anxious  to  get  back  their  stock,  so  a  force  was  imme 
diately  raised  to  pursue  the  thieving  redskins.  They 
rode  out  —  thirteen  in  all  —  and  soon  overtook  the 
Indians  upon  the  west  branch  of  the  river  Neuces. 
The  redskins  were  in  camp,  but  saw  the  white  men 
as  they  came  up  a  mountain,  and  moved  off  in  a  great 
hurry.  With  a  wild  shout,  the  plainsmen,  vaqueros, 
and  Mexicans  started  to  gallop  after  the  red  men,  who 
crowded  through  a  gap  in  the  mountains  and  ran 
away,  carrying  the  captured  horses  with  them.  But 
their  pursuers  gained  rapidly,  and  pressed  the  Indians 
so  close  that  they  dropped  seven  head  of  the  Adams 
horses.  These  were  quickly  seized  by  the  whites,  who 
followed  up  the  fleeing  redskins  until  their  own  mounts 
were  exhausted. 

"  Reckon  we'll  have  to  give  up,"  said  Henry  Shane. 
"  Boys,  there's  some  good  beef  stewing  at  the  Indian 
camp.  Let's  go  back  and  get  some !  " 

All  turned  towards  the  deserted  Indian  encamp 
ment,  and,  when  they  arrived  there,  found  some 
shields  and  head-dresses  which  the  Indians  had  left 
in  their  flight.  They  then  camped  for  the  night. 

Next  morning  Henry  Shane  was  anxious  to  get 
back  home,  as  the  scout  was  practically  over.  Sad 
dling  up  his  broncho,  he  started  out  over  the  plain 
accompanied  by  a  Mexican  named  Leal,  who  was  the 
"  boss  "  of  a  neighboring  ranch.  They  travelled  on 
together  for  about  two  miles,  when  suddenly  and  very 
unexpectedly  they  met  a  band  of  Indians  in  the  road 
driving  a  bunch  of  horses  before  them.  When  these 


322        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

saw  the  two  ranchmen  they  turned  their  bronchos 
away  from  the  road,  and  kept  on,  without  molesting 
the  whites. 

"  Well,"  said  Shane  to  his  companion,  "  we  should 
go  back  and  tell  the  other  men  that  here  is  a  chance 
to  fight  Indians." 

"  No,"  answered  Leal.  "  I'm  going  home.  But 
you  can  do  as  you  wish." 

Shane  bade  the  "  boss  "  good-by  and  started  for  the 
place  which  he  had  just  left.  The  plainsmen  were 
still  in  camp  at  the  bluff,  but  they  had  their  horses 
saddled  and  were  preparing  to  mount  just  as  the  ex 
cited  Henry  rode  up. 

"  Boys !  "  he  cried,  "  I've  just  met  a  band  of  Indians 
with  some  stolen  horses.  You  come  along  with  me 
and  we'll  get  these  fellows,  sure." 

"  Lead  on !  "  cried  his  men.     "  Lead  on !  " 

They  were  anxious  for  a  fight. 

The  ranchers  were  soon  galloping  forward,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  they  had  overtaken  the  Indians, 
who  quickly  started  off,  waving  their  blankets  at  the 
captured  horses  in  order  to  stampede  them.  Firing 
commenced,  and  Shane  had  a  piece  shot  from  the  horn 
of  his  saddle.  Two  of  the  Indians  were  killed,  but 
their  horses  carried  them  into  the  brush.  Finally  the 
redskins  made  a  stand  upon  the  top  of  a  round 
mountain,  but  as  soon  as  the  whites  charged  them 
they  ran.  They  left  three  saddled  pintos  behind 
them. 

The  plainsmen  made  a  rapid  pursuit,  and  soon  cap 
tured  thirty  horses  and  seven  mules.  The  red  men 


HENRY   SHANE  323 

seemed  to  give  up  all  hope  of  ever  defeating  the 
whites,  and  scurried  off  like  so  many  rabbits.  They 
dodged  behind  boulders  and  sage-brush.  So  quickly 
did  their  ponies  get  away  that  they  were  soon  out  of 
sight.  Henry  Shane  and  his  companions  were  well 
satisfied  with  the  day's  work  and  gave  up  the  pursuit, 
for  their  own  mounts  were  badly  winded. 

Life  upon  the  frontier  of  Texas  in  those  days  was 
certainly  exciting  for  any  one  engaged  in  the  sheep 
or  cattle  business.  In  spite  of  the  continued  danger 
from  redskins,  Henry  Shane  did  not  give  up  his  in 
terest  in  sheep.  One  of  his  brothers  —  named  Con 
stance  —  lived  with  him  and  helped  to  herd  the  flock, 
although  he  kept  continually  upon  his  guard  and  was 
never  without  his  rifle.  He,  himself,  was  soon  to 
have  a  narrow  escape  from  death. 

One  morning  Constance  was  arjout  two  hundred 
yards  from  the  house  carefully  watching  a  number 
of  sheep.  He  was  sitting  near  the  bank  of  a  creek, 
when  he  heard  horses'  hoofs  knocking  the  rocks  under 
the  bluff.  He  stepped  up  to  the  edge  of  the  bank  and 
looked  over,  expecting  to  see  some  cattlemen  from  a 
neighboring  ranch.  To  his  surprise  and  dismay  he 
saw  nine  Indians,  with  the  chief  in  the  lead.  They 
were  riding  up  the  bank  in  an  old  cow  trail. 

Young  Constance  was  too  startled  to  move.  He 
-stood  there  trembling,  and  allowed  the  redskins  to 
come  right  up  to  him.  The  chief  had  a  heavy  quirt 
in  his  hand,  with  which  he  struck  Shane  a  stinging 
blow  over  the  head  and  knocked  him  down.  He  then 
dismounted  and  stripped  him.  The  red  men  now 


324        FAMOUS   FKONTIERSMEN 

gathered  around  their  captive,  making  a  great  screech 
ing  and  howling. 

Henry  Shane  saw  the  Indians  collected  in  a  group, 
and,  seizing  his  rifle,  went  to  a  corner  of  a  fence  to 
watch  them.  He  could  not  see  his  brother,  and  was 
all  prepared  to  fire,  should  the  redskins  make  a  move 
in  his  own  direction.  The  Indians  saw  him  standing 
there,  and,  shooting  Constance  with  an  arrow,  they 
rode  away,  yelping  derisively. 

Henry  followed  the  redskins  in  order  tjo  see  which 
course  they  took,  and  then  came  back  to  camp,  still 
unaware  that  anything  had  happened  to  his  brother. 
The  Indians  had  apparently  determined  to  withdraw 
entirely,  which  was  fortunate  for  the  lone  sheep 
herder.  Constance  finally  crawled  to  his  feet  and  came 
back  to  the  camp,  declaring  that  there  were  eight 
bucks  and  one  squaw  in  the  party  and  that  the  squaw 
had  shot  him.  He  was  grievously  wounded,  —  so 
grievously  that  every  one  who  saw  him  said  that  he 
would  die.  But  he  fooled  them  all  and  became  per 
fectly  well  again,  —  much  to  the  joy  of  Henry,  who 
loved  him  dearly. 

Exciting  adventures  were  still  in  store  for  the 
daring  Henry  Shane,  who  continued  to  herd  his  sheep 
in  this  border  country,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  cruel 
redskins  were  all  around  him.  Not  long  after  the 
wounding  of  Constance,  Henry  went  up  the  river, 
which  ran  near  his  ranch,  and  entered  the  ranch-yard 
of  a  sheepman  called  Joe  Brown,  who  owned  a  sheep 
vat  and  a  furnace.  The  ranch  was  then  vacant,  as 
Mr.  Brown  had  moved  to  Uvalde  and  had  told  Shane 


HENRY   SHANE  325 

that  he  could  use  his  vat  and  furnace  for  dipping  sheep. 
It  was  Henry's  intention  to  start  a  fire  in  the  fur 
nace  for  the  purpose  of  boiling  tobacco,  which  was 
used  in  dipping  the  sheep,  to  cure  them  of  a  disease 
called  "  the  scab,"  or  to  prevent  them  from  catching 
this  dread  complaint. 

A  Mexican  named  Bernaldo  was  with  the  sheepman, 
and  rode  forward  in  order  to  get  some  horses  which 
were  in  a  small  pasture  not  far  distant.  He  soon  came 
back  upon  the  dead  run,  whipping  his  horse  furiously 
with  his  hat. 

"Hello,  there!  What's  the  trouble?"  shouted 
Shane. 

The  Mexican  was  so  excited  that  he  passed  on 
without  seeing  or  hearing  the  plainsman,  although  he 
was  not  far  from  him  as  he  raced  recklessly  by.  He 
was  certainly  well  frightened  at  something. 

Shane  was  not  armed.  This  was  unusual,  as  he 
seldom  left  the  house  without  a  gun,  because  of  the 
possibility  of  an  Indian  attack.  Hearing  a  great  com 
motion  in  the  pasture,  where  the  horses  were,  he 
walked  up  to  the  fence  only  to  see  —  to  his  dismay  — 
that  there  were  seven  Indians  in  the  field  after  the 
horses.  They  saw  him  at  once  and  three  of  them  left 
the  enclosure  in  order  to  give  him  chase. 

The  plainsman  was  in  a  tight  position,  but  his  cour 
age  did  not  desert  him  at  this  crucial  moment.  As 
luck  would  have  it,  he  carried  a  long  stick  in  his  hand, 
which  he  had  used  in  order  to  punch  the  fire  in  the 
furnace.  He  turned  and  ran,  but  the  Indians  were 
upon  the  backs  of  their  ponies  and  soon  came  very 


326        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

close  to  him.  He  pointed  his  stick  at  them,  as  if  about 
to  shoot.  Every  redskin  dodged  and  swung  himself 
upon  the  off  side  of  his  horse.  "  Ugh !  Ugh !  He 
have  shooting-stick !  "  cried  one. 

This  gave  the  courageous  frontiersman  another  op 
portunity  to  run,  and  he  made  off  as  fast  as  his  legs 
would  carry  him.  A  man  named  Patterson  had  a 
ranch  near  by  and  to  this  sheltering  abode  the  plains 
man  now  bent  his  footsteps.  The  Indians  were  hot 
on  his  trail  and  soon  caught  up  with  him,  but  he  again 
pointed  his  stick  at  them.  They  dodged,  and  this  gave 
him  a  second  start,  so  that  he  reached  the  ranch-yard 
and  jumped  over  the  fence  into  the  cow-pen.  Utter 
ing  loud  and  vociferous  cries,  the  Indians  shot  some 
arrows  at  him,  and  then  turned  back  in  order  to  secure 
the  horses  from  the  pasture.  This  they  did  and  were 
soon  galloping  away  with  them. 

The  pioneer  climbed  out  of  the  cow-pen,  ran  up  to 
the  ranch  house,  and  called  to  the  owner,  who  hap 
pened  to  be  there : 

"  Come  on,  Patterson.  If  you  will  assist  me,  we 
will  get  back  the  horses." 

"  I'm  your  man,"  Patterson  replied.  "  Here's  a 
rifle  of  mine.  I  will  take  a  six-shooter." 

"  All  right,"  said  Shane.  "  We'll  see  if  we  cannot 
do  something  to  these  crafty  fellows.  Come  on ! " 

The  two  ranchmen  soon  met  the  Indians  coming 
down  the  road,  driving  the  horses  before  them.  The 
valiant  two  stepped  to  one  side  in  order  to  ambush 
the  red  thieves,  Shane  hiding  behind  a  large  cactus 
plant.  As  the  foremost  Indian  came  near,  Shane  took 


HENRY   SHANE  327 

good  aim  at  him,  and  pulled  the  trigger  of  his  rifle. 
But  it  refused  to  go  off.  The  Indians  heard  the  noise 
and  galloped  away  with  their  captured  horses,  while 
the  two  ranchmen  made  after  them.  They,  themselves, 
were  ambushed  and  had  to  ride  hard  in  order  to  get 
away  from  the  redskins,  who  were  reinforced  by  a 
considerable  band.  After  their  retreat  the  plainsmen 
again  followed  with  additional  numbers,  but  the  In 
dians  were  well  ahead,  and  the  pursuit  had  to  be 
abandoned. 

In  1872  Mr.  Shane  decided  to  make  a  sheep  camp 
about  two  and  a  half  miles  from  where  he  lived,  so 
drove  down  there  in  a  wagon  one  morning,  in  order 
to  pitch  a  tent  and  fix  things  for  the  comfort  of  his 
Mexican  herder,  who  was  off  with  a  band  of  sheep. 
The  camp  was  beneath  the  fork  of  a  live-oak  tree. 
The  frontiersman  left  his  wagon  about  a  dozen  yards 
from  where  he  was  at  work,  and  started  to  put  a 
small  board  between  the  forks  of  the  live-oak,  to  serve 
as  a  shelf.  Two  guns  were  in  his  wagon. 

While  thus  occupied,  he  suddenly  heard  a  wild  war- 
whoop,  and  found  that  he  had  been  attacked  by  the 
Indians.  A  redskin  came  up  behind  the  wagon,  on 
horseback,  and  shot  at  the  ranchman  with  a  six- 
shooter,  the  ball  striking  the  right-hand  fork  of  the 
tree  and  knocking  the  bark  into  his  face  and  eyes. 
The  pioneer  turned,  in  order  to  get  his  guns  out  of 
his  wagon,  and  faced  the  levelled  revolver  of  the  sav 
age.  He  kept  cool  —  in  spite  of  this  danger  —  and, 
as  he  walked  to  the  wagon,  received  two  more  shots 
from  the  Indian.  As  the  redskin  was  behind  the  con- 


328        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

veyance,  his  shots  went  high,  passing  over  the  head 
of  the  frontiersman,  who  soon  reached  his  wagon  and 
looked  for  his  guns.  The  Comanche  saw  what  the 
white  man  was  after,  and,  when  he  perceived  that  his 
shots  had  failed  to  take  effect,  he  wheeled  his  horse 
and  ran  away.  Shane  seized  a  rifle  and  fired  at  him, 
killing  his  horse  when  he  did  so.  As  the  pinto  rolled 
upon  the  ground  eight  more  Indians  showed  them 
selves  and  began  to  charge  the  lone  white  man.  The 
gun  which  he  had  just  discharged  was  a  Mississippi 
yager,  and  he  had  no  more  balls  for  it. 

But  the  frontiersman  had  another  weapon:  a  new, 
single-shot  Ballard  rifle,  and  he  only  had  two  car 
tridges  for  it;  one  in  the  gun  and  one  in  his  pocket. 
In  leaving  home  that  morning  he  had  left  his  belt 
behind,  which  was  full  of  cartridges  for  the  Ballard. 
He  was  in  a  close  place,  but  he  had  —  as  you  know  — 
been  in  close  places  before,  and  he  was  determined 
to  make  the  best  fight  that  he  could.  He  resolved  not 
to  waste  a  shot.  Using  his  wagon  as  a  breastwork 
he  awaited  the  onset  of  the  Indians,  and  when  they 
came  nearer  he  raised  his  gun  and  aimed  at  them. 
The  redskins  dodged  behind  the  prickly  pear  and 
mesquite  bushes,  from  which  they  opened  fire,  hitting 
the  wagon  and  the  ground  around  it  repeatedly. 

Now  occurred  a  lively  battle.  The  frontiersman 
had  tied  a  fat  mule  about  one  hundred  feet  from  the 
wagon,  where  he  could  eat  grass.  A  daring  redskin 
concluded  to  risk  his  chances  and  get  the  animal,  so, 
leaving  the  cover  of  the  mesquite  bushes,  he  advanced 
across  open  ground  in  order  to  steal  the  unsuspecting 


HENRY   SHANE  329 

beast.  When  Shane  saw  the  Indian  coming  with  his 
knife  ready  to  sever  the  rope  which  held  the  mule, 
he  determined  to  risk  a  crack  at  him.  He  was  an 
excellent  shot,  and  he  knew  that  he  could  kill  the 
Indian  if  he  did  not  dodge  too  quickly.  Taking  a 
quick  but  accurate  aim,  he  fired.  The  Comanche  brave 
jumped  high  in  the  air,  and  then  fell  in  a  sheep  trail 
and  lay  there.  The  other  Indians  set  up  a  terrible 
howling  when  they  saw  that  their  companion  had 
been  killed,  and  several  of  them  ran  quickly,  seized 
him  by  the  hair  and  dragged  him  out  of  sight  behind 
the  prickly  pear  bushes.  The  pioneer  still  crouched 
low  and  waited  for  the  Comanches  to  come  on,  but, 
dreading  to  expose  themselves  to  such  marksmanship, 
the  Indians  did  not  again  show  themselves. 

Certainly  things  looked  bad  for  Henry  Shane,  but 
help  was  at  hand.  The  Mexican  attendant  heard  the 
fight,  and  from  the  number  of  shots  that  were  fired 
supposed  that  his  employer  had  been  killed.  He  ran 
to  the  ranch  in  order  to  inform  Mrs.  Shane  of  this 
fact.  The  lady  sent  four  Mexicans  out  to  see  if  they 
could  not  assist  her  husband.  When  they  neared  the 
scene  of  action  the  Indians  decamped,  leaving  their 
dead  comrade  behind.  The  ranchers  buried  the  Co 
manche  brave  where  he  had  fallen  in  the  sheep  trail. 

When  the  lucky  sheepman  returned  to  his  ranch 
from  the  scene  of  this  thrilling  little  battle  he  found 
that  a  strange  happening  had  come  to  pass.  The 
Mexican  sheep-herder  who  had  rushed  home  to  warn 
his  wife  that  the  Indians  had  surrounded  him,  was 
found  to  be  in  a  serious  condition,  through  over- 


330       EAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

exertion  in  carrying  the  news  of  Henry's  supposed 
death.  The  poor  fellow  was  in  great  pain,  and,  al 
though  he  was  placed  in  a  wagon  and  was  carried  to 
San  Antonio,  where  he  could  see  the  best  physicians, 
he  died  soon  afterwards. 

As  for  the  gallant  Shane,  he  continued  to  have 
exciting  adventures  with  the  redskins,  and,  not  long 
after  the  lucky  escape  which  I  have  just  narrated, 
had  another  brush  with  the  roving  Comanches.  He 
had  made  a  sheep  camp  three  miles  from  his  house, 
at  a  place  called  Long  Hollow,  and  had  his  Mexican 
herder  with  him.  This  was  the  faithful  Felipe  Flores. 

Early  one  morning  Shane  heard  rocks  rattling  in 
the  hollow  below  the  camp,  so  he  and  Flores  went  out 
a  short  distance  in  front  in  order  to  investigate  the 
matter.  Felipe  went  slightly  in  advance,  and  to 
Shane's  questioning  as  to  what  he  saw,  replied : 

"  It  is  Mr.  Billiard,  whom  we  have  been  expecting 
to  help  us  hunt  for  some  lost  sheep." 

Shane  kept  on,  but  suddenly  started  back  in  dismay. 
Ten  Comanches  were  coming  for  him  upon  the  dead 
run. 

•In  an  instant  the  sheepman  turned  and  hastened 
to  the  tent  in  order  to  seize  his  rifle.  The  Indians 
were  right  after  him,  and  crowded  Felipe  so  closely 
that  he  ran  backward  towards  the  fire.  As  a  Co- 
manche  endeavored  to  thrust  a  lance  into  his  body  he 
fell  into  the  flames.  When  this  occurred  the  Indians 
opened  fire  upon  Henry  Shane,  endeavoring  to  hit  him 
before  he  could  get  his  gun.  Several  balls  struck  the 
tent,  but  the  Ranger  was  unscathed. 


A    COMANCHE    WARRIOR. 


HENRY   SHANE  331 

Now  the  plainsman  seized  his  rifle,  and,  wheeling 
around,  fired  at  his  enemies.  They  retreated  at  once 
and  dashed  into  the  thick  brush.  As  they  scampered 
away,  two  Indians  on  the  same  horse  were  seen  to  ride 
behind  a  thick  bunch  of  prickly  pears,  only  one  of 
whom  came  out  upon  the  other  side. 

"  That  second  redskin  is  still  behind  the  pears," 
said  Flores.  "  He  is  waiting  there  in  order  to  shoot 
any  one  who  may  come  out  to  look  around. " 

"  I  think  that  I'll  stir  him  up  a  bit,"  said  Shane, 
and,  aiming  at  the  bunch  of  pears,  he  let  drive.  Sure 
enough,  he  routed  an  Indian,  who  ran  off,  screeching 
loudly.  When  the  spot  was  afterwards  examined  a 
bullet  hole  was  seen  in  the  pears.  The  redskin  had 
had  a  narrow  escape. 

This  was  not  Henry's  last  adventure  with  the  red 
skins  by  any  means,  for,  about  a  month  later  he  went 
down  the  river,  less  than  a  mile  from  his  ranch,  to 
a  place  called  the  "  Indian  Crossing."  There  were 
two  Mexicans  with  him,  who  had  a  wagon  and  a  pair 
of  mules.  Their  intention  was  to  saw  cypress  logs  in 
order  to  make  boards  and  shingles  for  a  new  ranch 
house. 

The  plainsmen  finished  their  work  of  loading  logs 
and  were  soon  ready  to  return  home.  One  of  the 
Mexicans,  called  Antonio,  had  a  gun  which  had  been 
resighted.  He  wished  to  have  Shane  try  it,  and  there 
fore  called  out : 

"  Come  here,  Sefior,  and  try  my  rifle.  It  can  shoot 
well  I  know,  but  I  would  like  to  have  your  opinion 
of  it.  There  is  a  tree  which  will  make  a  good  mark." 


332        FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

"  I'm  agreeable,"  replied  Henry,  taking  up  the  gun. 
He  fired  two  shots  at  the  tree.  When  he  had  finished, 
the  Mexican  went  over  to  see  where  he  had  hit  the 
bark. 

Over  forty  Indians  were  crossing  the  ford  of  the 
river  near  by  at  about  this  moment.  They  heard  the 
rifle  shots,  and,  learning  from  a  scout  that  three  white 
men  were  there,  determined  to  surround  and  capture 
them.  So  they  spread  out  like  a  fan  in  order  to  com 
pletely  annihilate  the  little  party.  Half  of  the  redskins 
came  up  on  the  bluff  upon  the  east  side,  opposite 
Shane  and  his  two  Mexicans ;  the  balance  went  to  the 
old  crossing  above,  so  as  to  come  around  the  frontiers 
men  upon  the  west  side  and  thus  cut  off  their  retreat 
in  both  directions.  Henry  Shane  was  now  in  another 
tight  box.  Let  us  see  how  he  fared. 

A  sudden  rattling  of  rocks  warned  the  pioneer  and 
his  companion  that  some  one  was  near  by.  His  friend 
(the  Mexican)  mounted  a  stump,  so  that  he  could  see 
the  crossing,  and  said : 

"  There  are  soldiers  coming  up  the  river." 

As  he  jumped  down,  Henry,  himself,  climbed  up 
on  the  stump  in  order  to  have  a  look. 

"  Soldiers !  "  he  cried.  "  Why,  man,  those  are 
Indians!" 

He  immediately  seized  his  rifle  and  stood  prepared 
for  action. 

Antonio,  as  you  know,  had  gone  to  look  at  the  bul 
let  marks  upon  a  tree.  When  the  Indians  came  down 
the  bank  of  the  river  they  encountered  this  Mexican 
and  opened  fire  upon  him.  Antonio  attempted  to  run 


HENRY   SHANE  333 

back  to  Shane,  but,  as  he  started  forward,  he  was 
struck  by  a  bullet,  and  fell  into  some  high  weeds.  The 
Indians  closed  in  upon  the  other  two  sheepmen,  utter 
ing  wild  cries  of  delight,  for  they  felt  that  they  had 
them,  and  they  bore  no  love  for  Henry  Shane.  They 
were  armed  with  Spencer  carbines  and  commenced  a 
rapid  fire  upon  the  bold  frontiersman  and  his  com 
panion. 

The  bullets  began  to  rain  in  from  both  sides  of  the 
creek,  as  Shane  took  shelter  behind  a  huge  cypress 
log  and  commenced  the  unequal  battle.  He  was  now 
in  the  tightest  place  that  he  had  ever  been  in  in  his 
life,  but  he  kept  cool,  and  only  fired  at  long  intervals, 
and  with  careful  aim.  The  redskins  were  uncertain 
as  to  the  force  they  were  attacking  and  were  afraid 
to  come  down  into  the  bed  of  the  river  and  to  fight 
at  close  quarters.  The  second  Mexican  crawled  into 
a  tree-top,  so  that  only  his  feet  were  visible.  He  was 
of  no  assistance  to  the  gallant  frontiersman. 

After  shooting  away  for  some  time,  the  Indians 
decided  to  send  a  warrior  on  horseback  below  (where 
Shane  was  crouching),  in  order  to  see  if  all  were 
killed,  or  if  there  were  any  still  left.  The  frontiers 
man  was  on  the  alert,  and,  as  the  redskin  approached, 
he  caught  the  first  motion  of  the  reeds  as  he  slipped 
through.  The  rest  of  the  red  men  had  ceased  firing 
and  were  all  under  cover. 

There  was  a  moment  of  breathless  anxiety.  Shane 
held  a  large  revolver  in  his  hand,  as  he  lay  close  to 
the  ground,  watching  around  the  end  of  the  log,  as 
the  fellow  came  in  view.  At  once  he  aimed  at  the 


334        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

redskin's  breast  and  pulled  the  trigger.  The  Co- 
manche  reeled  and  fell  to  one  side  of  his  horse,  clutch 
ing  the  mane  of  the  animal  as  it  ran  up  a  bluff.  The 
other  redskins  now  rose  from  the  grass  and  endeav 
ored  to  stop  the  startled  beast;  but  he  kept  running 
around  in  a  circle,  for  some  time,  with  the  Indian 
still  hanging  to  his  mane.  At  last  he  was  captured, 
and  a  loud  wailing  cry  told  the  frontiersman  that  the 
shot  which  he  had  fired  had  done  its  deadly  work. 

The  Indians  now  held  a  council  of  war.  They  could 
be  easily  seen  by  Shane,  where  he  lay.  Apparently 
they  had  had  sufficient  fighting,  for  they  mounted 
and  rode  off.  As  they  disappeared  from  view,  the 
happy  frontiersman  mounted  a  stump  and  counted 
forty  warriors.  How  many  he  had  killed  besides  this 
last  one  he  could  not  tell.  He  took  no  time  to  inves 
tigate  the  matter  and  prepared  to  leave  at  once. 

The  sides  of  the  log,  behind  which  he  had  lain, 
were  perforated  with  bullets.  One  bullet  hole  was  in 
his  boot  leg,  one  was  in  his  hat,  two  were  in  his  shirt, 
three  were  in  the  wagon  bed,  and  one  of  the  mules  was 
badly  wounded.  In  spite  of  this,  the  animal  was  able 
to  draw  the  wagon  home  with  him,  in  which  was 
placed  the  wounded  Antonio.  The  other  Mexican  had 
crawled  from  his  hiding-place  after  the  fight  was  over. 
He  was  certainly  not  made  of  the  same  stern  stuff  as 
was  Henry  Shane. 

The  bold  rancher  and  frontiersman  had  had  a  nar 
row  escape,  but  he  had  a  still  narrower  escape,  some 
time  later.  It  was  upon  a  winter's  day,  and  he  had 
gone  out  to  a  place  called  "Griner's  Bottom"  in 


HENRY   SHANE  335 

order  to  listen  to  turkeys  as  they  flew  up  to  roost,  for 
he  wished  to  kill  some  of  them  for  dinner  on  Christ 
mas  Eve.  He  found  the  place,  and  had  not  been 
there  long  before  he  heard  the  sound  of  horses'  feet. 
Looking  around,  he  saw  five  Indians  riding  to 
wards  him.  They  seemed  to  be  unaware  of  his 
presence. 

There  was  no  time  for  anything  but  quick  action. 
Henry  hugged  the  live-oak  tree,  against  which  he  had 
been  leaning.  As  he  did  so,  the  Indians  came  jogging 
along  on  both  sides  of  him :  two  on  one  side  —  three 
on  the  other.  It  was  rapidly  getting  dark,  so  they 
did  not  see  the  lone  frontiersman.  Luckily  they  did 
not  look  back  after  they  had  gone  past.  Had  they 
done  so,  they  would  have  seen  Henry  pressing  him 
self  flat  against  the  tree  trunk,  grasping  his  muzzle- 
loading  shotgun  very  tightly  and  trying  to  keep  his 
teeth  from  chattering.  Sometimes  this  antiquated 
gun  missed  fire.  Oh,  fortunate  Ranger!  The  red 
skins  were  soon  trotting  onward  in  the  darkness. 

This  was  not  the  last  adventure  which  the  daring 
Henry  had  with  the  savages  by  any  means,  but  it  was 
the  most  exciting.  He  lived  for  many  years  upon  his 
ranch  in  Uvalde  County;  prospered,  and  became  one 
of  the  solid  citizens  of  the  state.  Truly  his  was  an 
adventurous  soul.  It  was  to  such  men  as  these,  who 
dared  to  take  any  chance  and  assume  any  risk,  that 
the  West  owes  its  settlement,  its  civilization,  and  up 
building. 

All  honor,  then,  to  Henry  Shane,  —  the  Texan  pio 
neer  for  whom  the  Indian  had  no  terrors.  He  passed 


336        FAMOUS    FRONTIERSMEN 

through  so  many  hairbreadth  escapes  that  one  would 
think  him  often  thankful  that  he  was  alive.  Hail  to 
this  stout  German  who  helped  to  make  history  upon 
the  Mexican  frontier! 


POOR   JERRY   LANE: 
THE   LOST    TRAPPER   OF   WYOMING 

[This  is  the  story  of  a  young  frontiersman,  whom  I 
knew,  myself] 


JACKSON'S  HOLE,  Wyoming,  was  named  after 
one  Jackson,  a  pioneer,  explorer,  ranchman,  and 
horseman.  Jackson's  Hole  was  also  the  home  of 
horse  thieves  who,  gathering  up  their  captured  steeds, 
would  run  them  into  this  peaceful  valley  to  feed  them 
on  the  rich,  natural  hay  until  they  could  be  driven 
out  at  a  different  angle  and  sold  to  some  one  who  knew 
nothing  of  their  former  ownership.  Jackson's  Hole 
was  also  the  home  of  desperadoes  who  had  fled  from 
justice.  Jackson's  Hole  was  the  place  that  I  was 
going  to  in  the  summer  of  1899. 

"  Goin'  to  Jackson's  Hole,  be  yer  ?  "  said  a  fellow 
in  a  big  sombrero,  on  the  train  to  Idaho  Falls. 
"  Young  man,  you'll  never  get  out  alive.  Young  man, 
it's  a  desperate  place." 

He  winked  at  me,  shook  his  finger  in  my  face,  and 
dropped  back  into  the  seat  from  which  he  had  arisen. 
"  Young  man,"  he  continued,  "  the  Injuns  will  get 
you,  sure.  Young  man,  look  out !  " 

I  confess  that  I  felt  somewhat  disconcerted. 

337 


333        FAMOUS   FEONTIERSMEN 

"  I'll  take  care  of  my  scalp/'  said  I. 

Here  the  companion  of  my  friend  in  the  sombrero 
spoke.  This  one  had  a  red  handkerchief  knotted 
about  his  tawny  neck,  and  wore  a  corduroy  waist 
coat. 

"  Yes,  son,"  said  he,  "  haven't  you  heard  about  the 
Injuns  in  Jackson's  Hole  two  years  ago?  They 
stampeded  th'  settlers,  ran  off  a  lot  of  stock,  murdered 
an'  burned,  until  rounded  up  by  the  U.  S.  Cavalry. 
Reckon  there  be  some  more  loose  in  thar  now.  An' 
panthers!  Why,  boy,  they're  as  thick  as  peas  in  a 
pod.  An'  dangerous,  too,  by  gravy !  " 

The  first  speaker  guffawed. 

"  Tain't  nawthin'  to  th'  grizzlies,"  said  he.  "  They 
be  monstrous  pestiferous.  Why,  they  pull  you  from 
your  horse  they  be  so  unafraid  of  men." 

I  squirmed  uneasily  in  my  seat,  for  I  saw  that  they 
knew  me  to  be  a  tenderfoot. 

"  Boy,  you'll  be  eaten  alive  an'  scalped  to  boot," 
continued  the  fellow  in  the  sombrero.  "  The  good 
Lord  have  mercy  on  your  soul." 

"  Amen !  "  echoed  his  companion. 

And  I  wriggled  again,  for  I  saw  that  they  knew  me 
to  be  an  Easterner,  and  were  having  fun  in  their  own 
way. 

At  any  rate,  I  was  bound  for  Jackson's  Hole  and 
would  get  there  somehow  or  other  in  spite  of  horse 
thieves,  "  Injuns  "  and  grizzly  bears. 

We  met  at  Idaho  Falls.  When  I  say  we,  I  mean 
our  party,  for  we  were  surveyors,  bent  upon  explora 
tion  of  Uncle  Sam's  possessions,  and  upon  making 


POOR   JERRY   LANE  339 

an  accurate  map  of  the  somewhat  unknown  country 
near  Jackson's  Hole.  We  knew  that  it  was  a  great 
land  for  game  and  fish  and  that  it  was  the  home  of 
monster  bands  of  elk,  but  we  also  knew  that  it  had 
an  unsavory  reputation  as  the  haunt  for  "  bad  "  men 
of  the  hills.  As  I  had  come  up  on  the  train,  certain 
placards  in  the  stations  showed  that  these  same  "  bad  " 
men  were  still  around  and  had  been  operating  at  the 
expense  of  the  Express  Companies. 
The  placards  read : 

"$40,000    REWARD 
For  the  Capture,  Dead  or  Alive,  of  the 
Men    who    robbed    the    Union    Pacific 
Express   near   Rawlins,   Wyoming,   on 
the  Evening  of  June  4th." 

Then  followed  an  inaccurate  description  of  those 
who  had  been  seen  to  enter  the  mail  car,  seize  the  box 
containing  valuable  mail  and  expressage,  and  decamp 
across  the  prairie  with  their  plunder  on  their  ponies' 
backs. 

At  Pocatello,  Idaho,  I  looked  from  the  window  and 
saw  beneath  me  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  Swede.  He 
was  standing  there  nonchalantly,  dressed  in  a  cordu 
roy  suit,  blue  handkerchief  knotted  about  his  neck, 
and  wide  sombrero. 

"  That's  the  sheriff,"  said  a  man  at  my  elbow. 

"  Where's  he  bound?"  I  asked. 

"  Into  the  hills  after  the  train  robbers,"  he  an 
swered.  "  He  has  a  posse  with  him  and  they  ought 


340        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

to  be  able  to  capture  a  few  of  the  bandits  who  held 
up  the  Union  Pacific  Express." 

The  train  rolled  on,  but  I  always  remembered  that 
sturdy  little  figure,  standing  carelessly  on  the  plat 
form,  in  corduroys.  In  a  week  he  had  been  ambushed, 
with  his  entire  posse,  and  two  had  escaped  out  of  the 
eleven.  The  little  sheriff  was  buried  in  the  hills. 

To  get  into  Jackson's  Hole  was  then  a  rather  diffi 
cult  affair,  for  it  meant  a  long  journey  by  pack-train 
from  either  Market  Lake  or  Idaho  Falls.  But  the 
surveyor  and  the  sons  of  the  pioneer,  whom  he  en 
gaged  to  pilot  him,  were  not  adverse  to  pushing  into 
a  wild  country.  It  took  a  week  to  outfit  the  party, 
secure  the  necessary  horses,  engage  the  men,  and  whip 
the  fractious  range-animals  into  some  kind  of  sub 
mission  for  carrying  saddles,  pack  equipment,  and 
heavy  bags  of  food  and  tenting.  Then,  in  a  cloud 
of  alkali  dust,  and  with  a  crowd  of  Blackfeet  children 
gazing  open-mouthed  at  the  curious  caravan,  we  were 
off  for  the  blue  hills  which  lay  to  the  northeast. 

The  plains  of  Idaho  are  not  only  arid  and  parched, 
but  they  are  covered  with  sage-brush,  which  emits  a 
strong,  pungent  odor  that  is  delicious.  The  alkali  dust 
arises  in  clouds,  and  chokes  one,  as  one  proceeds,  but 
that  is  not  the  only  difficulty,  for  —  strange  as  it  may 
seem  — the  mosquito  breeds  by  the  millions  in  the 
irrigating  ditches,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  thick 
gauntlet  gloves  and  netting  attached  to  our  sombreros, 
we  would  have  been  fairly  eaten  alive  by  the  black 
swarms  which  followed  us  in  clouds. 

Every  now  and  again  —  afar  off  on  the  prairie  — 


POOE   JERRY   LANE  341 

we  would  see  a  whirling  cloud  of  moving  alkali 
dust. 

"  Wild  horses  running  to  water/'  said  one  of  the 
cowboys.  "  That's  the  way  they  always  go,  on  the 
dead  gallop." 

Occasionally  we  came  near  enough  to  see  some  of 
them  and  they  were  lean,  gaunt  and  rangy  creatures, 
which  had  escaped  from  the  ranches,  had  run  off  to 
the  prairie  and  had  found  pleasure  in  the  free  and 
untrammelled  life  of  the  plains.  They  would  snort, 
as  we  approached,  throw  their  heads  high  in  the  air, 
and  then  —  turning  around  —  would  be  off  like  the 
wind. 

As  we  rode  along,  hot,  dusty,  and  thirsty,  I  heard 
about  Jerry  Lane.  • 

"  This  here  Lane,"  said  Jack  (a  lean,  little  cowboy) 
"  is  a  Noo  Yorker.  He  came  out  here  three  years 
ago,  sayin'  that  life  was  too  tame  for  him  back  East, 
an*  he  wanted  to  be  right  in  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
where  the  wolves,  bears,  and  antelope  could  be  seen, 
just  th'  same  as  in  th'  time  of  Kit  Carson  an'  Bill 
Bent.  Some  says  that  he's  a  millionaire.  Some  says 
that  he  isn't.  Leastways  he  has  about  all  th'  money 
one  needs  in  this  here  country,  an'  they  tell  me  his 
cabin  in  th'  Rockies  is  full  of  th'  best  kind  of  rifles, 
of  steel  traps,  books,  an'  all  that's  nice." 

"  HE  FOUND  LIFE  TOO  TAME  FOR  HIM  BACK  EAST." 

This  sentence  stuck  in  my  mind  and  I  knew  —  in 
a  moment  —  what  kind  of  a  youth  was  Jerry  Lane. 
He  had  the  same  spirit  as  the  old  explorers.  He  pos 
sessed  the  imagination  of  a  Lewis  or  a  Clarke;  a 


342       FAMOUS  FRONTIEESMEN 

Champlain,  or  a  La  Salle.  To  him  the  spirit  of  the 
wilderness  was  all  absorbing,  and,  shaking  off  the 
trammels  of  civilization,  he  loved  to  live  out  his  days 
amidst  the  towering  mountains,  which,  even  then, 
stretched  before  us,  jutting  high  from  the  sage-brush 
plateau.  I  immediately  felt  a  sympathetic  interest  for 
Jerry  Lane. 

To  cross  into  the  valley  of  Jackson's  Hole  requires 
one's  utmost  exertions,  for  one  must  climb  up  the 
Teton  Pass  in  order  to  get  over  the  mountains  which 
surround  this  paradise  of  fish  and  game.  For  a  man 
and  a  horse  to  pass  up  and  across  is  easy  work,  but 
we  were  unfortunate  enough  to  have  a  wagon  with 
us.  As  we  neared  the  bottom  of  the  trail,  which  led 
almost  perpendicularly  up  in  the  air,  we  saw  a  broken 
vehicle  of  a  pioneer. 

"  The  Top  of  Teton  Pass,  or  Bust,"  some  one  had 
written  on  a  board  and  placed  upon  the  battered 
spokes. 

It  had  "  Busted." 

Now  climbing,  pushing,  blowing,  we  yoked  four 
horses  to  our  wagon  and  gradually  worked  it  to  the 
summit  of  the  Pass.  It  was  July,  but  snow  was  on 
the  ridges,  and  the  air  was  like  Labrador  as  it  swept 
across  the  hemlock-covered  mountains.  When  once 
on  top  of  the  Pass,  what  a  view!  We  gazed  down 
into  a  peaceful  little  vale  with  log  houses  and  thatched 
roofs,  fields  of  green  grass  with  stacks  of  yellow  hay, 
and  bluish  gray  rivers  curving  gracefully  across  the 
plain.  Hereford  cattle,  with  their  brown  bodies  and 
white  faces,  grazed  contentedly  upon  the  wide  sweep 


POOR  JERRY  LANE  343 

of  natural  grass,  and  the  barking  of  dogs  sounded 
indistinctly  from  the  barnyard  of  a  new-made 
home. 

Down  we  pushed  into  the  valley,  then  onward, 
across  the  Snake  River  at  Moeners'  Ferry,  and  then 
to  the  Buffalo  Fork  of  the  Grosventre.  Antelope 
began  to  appear  upon  the  plain  and  danced  about  us 
like  yellow  and  white  rubber  balls.  Two  of  the  cow 
boys  dismounted  and  fired  at  them,  resting  their  rifles 
upon  their  knees.  They  could  not  duplicate  the  marks 
manship  of  Kit  Carson  or  Buffalo  Bill.  Not  an  ante 
lope  was  even  wounded. 

We  camped  in  a  beautiful  spot  near  the  Grosventre 
River,  and,  just  as  we  were  lighting  the  fire  for  sup 
per,  a  cry  went  up  from  some  one : 

"Elk!    Elk!" 

I  was  busy  pouring  some  coffee,  and,  looking  up, 
saw  a  cowboy  pointing  to  a  high  bank  opposite  our 
camp.  Sure  enough,  there  stood  a  noble  bull  elk,  his 
spreading  antlers  standing  out  on  either  side,  giving 
him  a  calm  and  majestic  appearance.  He  was  gazing 
curiously  at  the  animated  scene  below. 

Why  is  it  that  the  average  man's  first  instinct  when 
he  sees  a  wild  animal  is  to  kill  it?  I  was  satisfied 
with  watching  this  magnificent  child  of  the  forest, 
but  not  so  with  the  rest  of  the  party.  Three  of  them 
ran  immediately  to  get  their  rifles  and  a  fusillade  of 
bullets  soon  whistled  in  the  direction  of  the  big  elk. 
He  turned,  galloped  off  into  the  timber,  and  left  the 
cowboys  to  bemoan  their  lack  of  ability  with  the  shoot 
ing-iron. 


344        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

"  By  gracious,"  said  one,  "  I  can't  hit  a  barn  door 
at  fifty  yards !  " 

The  elk  was  but  one  of  the  many  which  ranged  the 
Jackson  Hole  country  and  whose  deep  trails  could  be 
seen  on  every  hand.  Their  bleaching  antlers,  which 
they  had  shed,  were  also  upon  many  a  hill,  and  fre 
quently  we  would  pass  a  rancher's  cabin,  where  a 
fence  would  have  been  constructed  of  the  white  twisted 
horns  of  the  old  bulls.  I  knew  that  we  would  soon 
see  a  quantity  of  elk,  and  we  did. 

Not  many  evenings  later,  as  we  were  again  boiling 
our  coffee  for  dinner,  the  most  unearthly  scream  that 
I  have  ever  heard  echoed  from  the  canyon  just  to  our 
right.  -It  was  answered  by  another,  and  —  if  I  can 
make  you  believe  it  —  the  sound  was  as  if  a  woman 
were  being  strangled. 

"  Mountain  lion  screeching,"  said  Jack,  with  a  grim 
smile.  "  Awful  noise,  ain't  it  ?  " 

I  confessed  that  it  was. 

"  Makes  me  always  feel  skeery.  Kind  uv  makes 
th'  gooseflesh  creep  up  my  back.  Heard  'em  a  thou 
sand  times  but  always  frightens  me/' 

The  cowboy  drew  closer  to  the  fire  and  I  noticed 
that  he  was  shivering. 

The  mountain  lion  is  a  great  coward  and  is  afraid 
to  attack  a  human  being.  Unless  cornered  and  ex 
tremely  hungry,  he  will  not  fight.  He  has  —  in  spite 
of  this  —  the  most  unearthly  scream,  which  would 
make  one  believe  that  he  was  one  of  the  fiercest  and 
most  bloodthirsty  of  beasts.  Welling  up  upon  the 
clear  night  air  —  in  the  very  heart  of  the  wilderness 


POOR   JBREY   LAKE  345 

—  it  is  enough  to  freeze  one's  blood  to  hear  their 
wailings.  It  takes  strong  nerves  to  listen  to  their 
gruesome  noise  without  shaking. 

I  heard  the  lions  again  about  a  week  later,  when 
I  and  a  cowboy  called  Jim,  were  making  our  way  up 
the  side  of  a  beautiful  little  tributary  to  the  Gros- 
ventre.  We  were  following  a  deep-rutted  elk  trail 
which  led  up  the  edge  of  a  mountain  to  and  from 
their  summer  feeding  grounds,  upon  one  of  the  higher 
plateaus.  There  was  a  log  cabin  nestling  at  the  foot 
of  the  opposite  hill  —  used  by  one  of  the  game  war 
dens  —  and,  in  the  rear  of  this,  a  deep  bank  of  hem 
locks  clothed  the  side  of  the  cliff.  Here  the  lions  were 
concealed,  and,  seeing  us  riding  in  the  open,  shrieked 
out  their  defiance  at  the  trespassers  upon  their  de 
mesne. 

Although  a  startling  and  nerve-racking  sound,  we 
kept  upon  our  way,  and  I  confess  that  I  looked  to  the 
shells  in  my  rifle  —  fearing  that  one  of  the  screechers 
might  consider  us  excellent  bait  for  their  dinner. 
Soon  we  had  advanced  far  up  the  canyon  and  then 
the  lions  ceased  their  caterwauling. 

We  were  now  in  the  heart  of  gameland.  The  tracks 
of  bear  were  extraordinarily  thick,  and  every  now 
and  again  we  would  come  to  fresh  sign,  not  an  hour 
old.  Once  I  reached  a  stream  through  which  a  big 
grizzly  must  have  just  passed,  for  the  water  was  still 
muddy,  and  the  print  of  his  feet  could  easily  be  seen 
in  the  soft  bank.  In  spite  of  their  apparent  numbers 
we  could  not  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  one  of  them, 
and,  although  I  was  constantly  hoping  to  meet  with 


346        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

a  specimen  of  these  monsters  oi  the  glen,  I  was  never 
to  catch  even  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  one. 

Not  so  with  the  rest  of  the  party.  Not  a  week  later 
one  of  the  cowboys  rode  into  camp  with  a  wild  yelp 
ing,  and  there  —  behind  him  —  were  two  of  his  com 
panions,  lugging  in  the  body  of  a  brown  bear.  He 
was  a  little  fellow  and  his  fur  was  all  rubbed  away 
in  places,  where  he  had  scratched  himself  against  the 
rocks.  In  spite  of  this  he  was  good  eating  and  his 
haunches  were  enjoyed  by  most  of  the  party.  Per 
sonally,  I  did  not  care  for  the  meat  and  preferred 
canned  tongue. 

The  elk  trails  were  most  abundant,  and  I  knew  that 
we  would  soon  see  these  brown  deer,  for  we  gradually 
moved  up  to  the  summit  of  the  Rockies,  where  were 
vast  plateaus  covered  with  millions  of  beautiful  flow 
ers.  These  the  noble  animals  lived  upon  in  summer 
and  slept  among  them  too,  for  1  would  often  find 
round  holes  in  the  grass,  where  some  of  them  had 
bedded  down  a  short  time  before.  One  evening  two 
of  the  horse-wranglers  returned  to  camp  with  the 
haunch  of  a  cow  elk,  and  stated  —  with  much  glee  — 
that  they  had  run  upon  a  band  of  six,  coming  through 
some  fallen  timber.  Two  had  fallen  before  their 
rifles,  and,  after  cutting  off  enough  for  the  use  of  our 
camp,  they  had  placed  the  bodies  in  a  position  that 
could  be  easily  approached,  at  a  later  date,  when  bear 
would  undoubtedly  be  feeding  upon  the  venison. 

A  week  later  we  had  a  glorious  view  of  a  large  herd 
of  elk. 

While  traversing  a  high  belt  of  timber  my  compan- 


POOR   JERRY   LANE  347 

ion  —  a  surveyor  —  called  out  to  me  to  hurry  over 
and  see  something  on  the  other  extremity  of  the  ridge, 
upon  which  he  had  just  taken  his  position.  When  I 
reached  his  side  I  saw  that  he  was  looking  in  the  direc 
tion  of  a  high  plateau,  upon  which  fully  a  thousand 
elk  were  feeding.  No  bulls  seemed  to  be  there  —  they 
were  all  cows  and  calves  —  and  were  grazing  like  a 
herd  of  cattle.  The  little  calves  were  butting  at  each 
other  and  frisking  about  in  great  glee,  while  their 
fond  mammas  watched  them  with  loving  and  tender 
glances  of  affection.  It  was  a  beautiful  and  moving 
vista. 

My  companion  had  a  field-glass,  and  we  stood 
watching  the  changing  mass  of  elk  for  at  least  an  hour. 
They  apparently  had  no  knowledge  of  our  presence, 
for  the  wind  was  blowing  from  them  to  us,  so  that  no 
strange  "  scent  of  the  trespassing  man  "  came  to  their 
keen  nostrils.  There  —  in  that  beautiful  mountain 
pasture  —  the  baby  elk  were  growing  to  maturity,  — 
while  far  below  in  the  valley  the  settlers  were  gath 
ering  the  natural  hay  which  usually  fed  them,  for 
the  use  of  their  own  cattle  during  the  long  and  cruel 
winter.  There  would  be  much  suffering  and  distress 
among  the  band,  when  they  had  left  these  mountain 
meadows  for  the  valley. 

A  week  later  we  met  the  trapper  and  plainsman: 
Jerry  Lane.  I  had  already  come  upon  his  cabin  and 
had  stopped  there  for  luncheon,  leaving  a  neat  piece 
of  paper  on  the  door  to  the  effect  that,  — 

"  Pardner,  we  used  your  tin  plates,  spoons,  knives, 
and  one  can  of  potted  tongue." 


348        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

High  up  in  the  hills  the  little  log  hut  was  situated 
near  a  stream  of  icy  water.  It  was  about  sixteen  by 
twenty  feet,  the  floor  covered  with  bear  and  wolf 
skins,  and  four  rifles  in  the  rack.  Great  steel  traps 
hung  upon  the  walls  outside,  and  antelope  hides  were 
tacked  against  it.  There  were  good  books  within: 
stories  of  hunting  and  adventure,  —  and  upon  the 
floor  —  were  numerous  copies  of  the  Sunday  New 
York  Journal.  Jerry  Lane  had  lived  well  upon  the 
summit  of  the  Rockies. 

I  will  never  forget  the  view  of  the  young  trapper 
which  came  to  me  that  morning.  All  around  were  the 
towering  Rockies:  an  occasional  fleck  of  snow  upon 
the  brown  surface  of  the  high  cliffs ;  a  gushing  stream 
over  on  the  right;  the  sage-brush  plateau  stretched 
away  on  every  side,  brown,  bare,  parched.  A  puff  of 
dust  first  appeared  in  the  far  distance,  then  two  figures 
rode  up  on  horseback.  They  drew  nearer  and  nearer. 
(In  front  was  the  youthful  personification  of  Buffalo 
Bill.  It  was  Jerry  Lane. 

He  was  riding  a  magnificent  half-bred  animal  —  a 
roan.  His  bridle  and  saddle,  as  I  remember  —  were 
silver  mounted.  A  big  pair  of  Mexican  spurs  were 
on  his  heels.  With  a  close-fitting  suit  of  tawny  buck 
skin,  a  wide  sombrero,  cartridge-belt  around  the  waist, 
and  a  long  rifle  hung  neatly  under  the  left  leg  he  was 
a  perfect  picture  of  a  plainsman,  —  such  a  picture  as 
one  sees  in  dime  novels. 

Behind  him  was  an  evil-looking  customer,  dressed 
in  a  slovenly  manner,  and  scowling  beneath  a  rather 
battered-in  slouch  hat.  His  horse,  too,  had  nowhere 


POOR   JERRY   LANE  349 

near  the  breeding  of  the  other.  He  frowned  as  he 
approached :  the  other  smiled. 

"  Hello !  "  said  Jerry  Lane.    "  Dusty,  isn't  it?  " 

"  You  bet/'  said  I.    "  Where  you  bound?  " 

"  Montana." 

"Hunting?" 

"  No,  just  taking  life  easy." 

That  was  all  the  conversation  that  we  had.  He 
waved  his  hat  to  me,  touched  the  spurs  to  his  horse's 
flanks,  and  was  soon  off  down  the  divide.  For  a  long 
time  I  stood  and  gazed  after  the  lithe  figure :  young, 
beautiful,  brimming  over  with  health  and  exuberance, 
—  the  man  who  had  found  New  York  too  tame  for 
his  hot  blood.  Could  you  blame  him  ? 

Three  days  later  a  cow-puncher  rode  into  our  camp, 
threw  his  saddle  on  the  ground,  hobbled  his  pony,  and 
drew  near  the  mess  table. 

"  Too  bad  about  Jerry,  warn't  it  ?  "  said  he,  as  he 
seated  himself. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  him?  "  I  asked. 

"  Shot" 

"W-h-a-a-t!" 

"  Yes,  got  into  a  row  over  the  Montana  line.  They 
say  it  was  accidental.  Some  one  dropped  his  six- 
shooter  on  the  floor.  It  exploded.  No  more  Jerry 
Lane." 

That  night  I  walked  out  to  a  lonely  rock  and  gazed 
at  the  brilliant  stars.  It  was  the  true  West,  after  all, 
the  West  that  I  had  always  read  about  but  had  never 
seen  until  now.  I  thought  of  the  sandy-haired,  blue- 


350        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

eyed  sheriff  who  had  gone  to  the  Great  Beyond.  I 
thought  of  poor  Jerry  Lane :  that  lithe,  active  figure 
in  buckskins ;  that  devil-may-care  manner ;  that  fresh, 
pink-cheeked  face.  Yes,  the  West  still  held  her  trag 
edies,  and  the  low  wail  of  a  coyote  far  off  on  the  plain 
sounded  ominously  dreary,  while  the  hand  of  death 
lay  over  the  great  wild  wastes  of  the  rolling,  sage 
brush-covered  prairie. 


THE    SONG   OF   THE   MOOSE 


is  the  song  which  the  trapper  heard, 
Heard  in  the  gloom  of  the  forest  dark, 
Heard  while  the  embers  snapped  and  snarled, 

To  the  growl  and  glare  of  the  glimmering  spark. 
Heard  while  the  lucivee  cried  from  the  pines, 
And  the  ribboned  splash  of  a  startled  loon, 
Crystalled  the  rim  of  the  lake,  as  it  lay 
Soft  in  the  gleam  of  the  hunter's  moon. 
This  is  the  song  of  the  moose. 

Near  the  amber  drip  of  the  torrent's  rip, 

Where  the  lean  wolf  howls  at  the  blinding  spray, 
Where  the  sleeted  pine  is  riven  and  rent, 

By  stress  and  strain  of  the  mist-bank  gray; 
We  struggled  and  fed  through  the  reedling's  bed, 

Where  the  sheldrake  croons  to  her  fledglings  brown, 
And  the  otter  mewed  to  its  hungry  brood, 

As  the  osprey  peered  from  the  hemlock's  crown. 

Our  moosling  day  was  a  rapturous  play, 

We  browsed  where  the  partridge  drummed  a  song, 
Where  the  brown  bear  hid  in  the  tamarack, 

Where  the  days  were  short  and  the  nights  were  long. 
We  roamed  'neath  the  arch  of  the  drowsy  larch, 

Where  the  beaver  bred  in  the  inky  pool, 
We  splashed  in  the  foam  of  the  cataract, 

In  the  frothing  spume  and  the  ripples  cool. 
351 


352       FAMOUS   FEONTIEESMEN 

We  hid  'neath  the  pine  of  the  Serpentine, 

As  the  red  fox  barked  to  his  sleek-fed  mate; 
We  ate  of  the  birch  of  the  Restigouche, 

Where  the  goldfinch  whisper  and  undulate. 
Oh,  bright  were  the  days,  with  surcease  of  care, 

As  we  fed  and  grew  from  our  clumsy  birth; 
While  the  woods  were  green  with  a  shimmering  sheen, 

And  the  sun  shone  hot  on  the  moss-grown  earth. 


Then  came  the  prod  from  the  fleet-flying  squad, 

As  the  gray  goose  sped  to  the  Chesapeake; 
The  leaves  grew  sere  at  the  slow,  dying  year, 

And  the  salmon  raced  from  their  spawning  creek. 
Our  mothers  fled  from  our  marsh-sunken  bed, 

We  browsed  no  more  on  the  soft  lilies'  pad; 
From  the  distant  blue  came  the  caribou, 

Rank  upon  rank  —  and  their  temper  was  bad. 


Their  eyes  were  bad,  as  they  fought  for  our  feed, 

When  the  air  grew  chill  in  the  Northern  blast, 
And  the  white  flakes  fell  from  the  sodden  sky, 

On  the  sleeted  lakes,  soon  frozen  hard  fast. 
Pure  white  was  the  cowl  of  the  arctic  owl, 

And  soft  was  his  voice  from  the  cedar  deep ; 
As  we  ploughed  our  yard  'neath  the  mountain's  guard, 

And  marked  our  birch  for  the  long  winter's  keep. 


Now,  sharp  came  the  clang,  as  the  wood-axe  rang, 
"  'Tis  man,"  said  our  kin,  "  you  must  wander  afar 

From  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  reach  of  his  arm, 
For  his  song  is  death  and  his  hand  is  war." 


THE  SONG  OF  THE   MOOSE      353 

The  blue  wisps  curled  from  the  lone  logger's  hut, 
Far  down  in  the  depths  of  the  silent  wood; 

And  shouts  came  loud  from  the  boisterous  crowd, 
As  they  sapped  the  strength  of  the  forest's  blood. 


We  were  taught  to  fend,  with  a  lunge  and  bend, 

The  spring  of  the  lynx,  with  his  snarling  yelp; 
We  were  shown  to  ride,  with  a  single  stride, 

The  charge  of  the  wolf  and  his  whining  whelp. 
We  saw  how  to  strip  the  birch  with  our  lip, 

And  to  trample  the  shoots  with  our  fore-leg  weight; 
We  learned  how  to  tell  a  foe  by  the  smell, 

That  law  in  the  wood  was  the  law  of  hate. 


Another  year,  and  the  wide  ridge  was  clear, 

As  the  snow  grew  less,  and  the  day  grew  long; 
With  a  start  of  the  sap  we  swung  from  our  trap, 

While  the  chickadee  whispered  his  mating  song; 
And  the  robin  came,  with  feathers  of  flame, 

To  carol  a  psalm  from  the  budding  spray, 
While  the  chewink's  flute,  like  a  minstrel's  lute, 

Trilled  clear  in  the  balm  of  the  softening  day. 


Oh,  that  life  was  good  in  the  opening  wood, 

As  our  brothers'  horns  turned  velvet  to  bone, 
We  wandered  at  will  over  hummock  and  hill, 

'Till  we  found  out  —  alas  —  we  were  never  alone. 
Man  found  us  there,  in  our  deep,  forest  lair, 

And  plunge  as  we  would  in  the  thicket's  gloom, 
We  ran  on  his  track  and  the  sign  of  his  pack, 

As  he  close  hunted  us  down  to  our  doom. 


354        FAMOUS   FRONTIEBSMEN 

There,  oft  in  the  dark,  we  trembled  to  hark 

To  his  muffled  call,  by  bank  of  the  pond, 
And  to  those  who  lacked  in  spirit  of  fear, 

It  was  death  to  inquire,  and  death  to  respond. 
Oft  have  we  trod  on  the  ranks  of  the  slain, 

As  prostrate  they  lay  near  some  crystal  stream; 
Lured  to  their  end  by  the  low,  soothing  cry, 

Mocking  the  mate  of  a  love-longing  dream. 


To  the  whispering  rest  of  the  trackless  West, 

We  travel  to  live  where  the  range-land  is  clear, 
Where  wolf  and  bear  keep  their  sheltering  lair, 

Where  silence  is  deep  and  man  is  not  near. 
Few  —  few  are  there  left  from  'merciless  war, 

Waged  on  our  ranks,  now  broken  and  gone, 
Yet,  struggle  we  must  'gainst  slaughtering  lust, 

Our  end  is  in  view  —  race-driven,  forlorn. 


This  is  the  song  which  the  trapper  heard, 

Heard  in  the  gloom  of  the  forest  dark, 
Heard  of  an  ancient  and  vanishing  race, 

By  the  growl  and  glare  of  the  glimmering  spark. 
Heard  of  the  mannish  blood-lust  and  greed, 

Of  the  withering  waste  in  the  rifle's  path, 
Song  of  the  steel-clad  bullet 's  speed, 

This  is  the  song  of  the  moose. 


RETROSPECT 

longer  moves  the  wagon  train  through  clouds  of 

rolling  dust, 

No  longer  speaks  the  musket,  foul  caked  with  yellow  rust, 
Wild  days  have  passed;   the  yelping  brave  has  vanished  in 

the  mists  of  time, 
Wild  fights  are  o'er,  the  valiant  scout  has  ceased  to  cheer 

the  firing  line. 
The  brutish  bison  herds  are  gone  —  the  lean  coyote  sneaks 

here  and  there, 
Where  once  the  pronghorn  fed  in  peace,  and  shyly  roamed 

the  grizzly  bear. 
The  elk  are  dead  —  the  puma,  too,  no  longer  shrieks  his 

wailing  cry, 
Where  trapper's  fires  are  blazing  clear,  and  sharply  light 

the  dark'ning  sky. 
From  out  the  past,  pale  forms  arise,  the  shapes  of  those  who 

fought  and  bled 

On  treeless  plains  of  alkali,  and  bravely  found  a  gory  bed. 
The  ghostly  shapes  go  riding  past;    scout,  voyageur,  and 

priest, 
Chief,  warrior,  and  squaw,  who  gathered  at  the  trader's 

feast. 
No  more  their  laughter  echoes  loud,  no  more  their  voices  rise 

and  fall, 
By  bed  of  stream,  'neath  aspen's  bough,  where  clumsy  Indian 

children  sprawl. 

355 


356        FAMOUS   FRONTIERSMEN 

The  chatter  of  the  dance  is  hushed;    the  yells  of  warrior 

bands  are  gone, 
As  —  gathering  for  the  dance  of  death  —  they  held  high 

revelry  'till  dawn. 
We  gaze  upon  the  written  page,  we  marvel  that  such  tales 

are  truth, 
Of  fighting  fierce,  of  wrangling  rude,  of  scalp-dance  and  the 

cries  of  youth. 
Then  thankfully  we  tread  the  paths,  which  voyageur  and 

trapper  bold 
Were  wont  to  tread  in  olden  times,  when  passions  fierce  were 

uncontrolled. 

Yes  —  blood  was  shed  —  yes  —  men  were  brave,  who  con 
quered  and  who  won  the  West, 
Now  there  is  love  where  once  was  strife  —  the  scouts  have 

reached  their  Heavenly  rest. 


THE  END. 


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OF  THE  BORDER 

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THE  YOUNG  PIONEER  SERIES 

By  HARRISON  ADAMS 

Each,  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated     .       .       .     $1.25 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  OHIO;    OR, 

CLEARING  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Boys  will  follow  with  ever  increasing  interest  the  for 
tunes  of  Bob  and  Sandy  Armstrong  in  their  hunting  and 
trapping  expeditions,  and  in  their  adventures  with  the 
Indians. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  ON  THE  GREAT  LAKES ; 

OR,  ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  IROQUOIS. 

In  this  story  are  introduced  all  of  the  principal  charac 
ters  of  the  first  volume,  and  Bob  and  Sandy  learn  much 
of  life  in  the  open  from  the  French  trappers  and  coureurs 
du  bois. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI; 

OR,  THE  HOMESTEAD  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Telling  of  how  the  Armstrong  family  decides  to  move 
farther  west  after  an  awful  flood  on  the  Ohio,  and  how  they 
travelled  to  the  great  "  Father  of  Waters  "  and  settled 
on  its  banks,  and  of  how  the  pioneer  boys  had  many  ad 
ventures  both  with  wild  animals  and  with  the  crafty 
Indians. 


HAWK:  THE  YOUNG  OSAGE 

By  C.  H.  ROBINSON. 

One  vol.,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .        .        .     $1.50 

A  fine  story  of  North  American  Indians.     The  story 

begins  when  Hawk  is  a  papoose  and  follows  him  until  he 

is  finally  made  chief  of  his  tribe. 

THE  YOUNG  APPRENTICE;  OR,  ALLAN  WEST'S 

CHUM. 

By  BURTON  E.  STEVENSON. 

Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated      .     $1.50 

In  this  book  Mr.  Stevenson  takes  up  a  new  branch  of 
railroading,  namely,  the  work  of  the  "  Shops." 
A— 10 


BOOKS  FOR    YOUNG  PEOPLE 


THE  YOUNG  SECTION-HAND;  OR,  THE  AD 
VENTURES  OF  ALLAN  WEST.  By  BURTON  E.  STEVENSON. 
Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .  .  $1 . 50 
Mr.  Stevenson's  hero  is  a  manly  lad  of  sixteen,  who  is 

given  a  chance  as  a  section-hand  on  a  big  Western  rail 
road,  and  whose  experiences  are  as  real  as  they  are  thrilling. 

THE  YOUNG  TRAIN  DISPATCHER.  By  BUR- 
TON  E.  STEVENSON. 

Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .        .     $1.50 
"  A  better  book  for  boys  has  never  left  an  American 

press."  —  Springfield    Union. 

THE  YOUNG  TRAIN  MASTER.  By  BURTON  E. 
STEVENSON. 

Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .     $1 . 50 
"  Nothing  better  in  the  way  of  a  book  of  adventure  for 

boys."  —  Boston  Herald. 

CAPTAIN  JACK  LORIMER;  By  WINN  STANDISH. 
Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .  $1.50 
Jack  is  a  fine  example  of  the  American  high-school  boy. 

JACK  LORIMER'S  CHAMPIONS;   OR,  SPORTS 
ON  LAND  AND  LAKE.    By  WINN  STANDISH. 
Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated       .     $1.50 
"  It  is  exactly  the  sort  of  book  to  give  a  boy  interested 

in  athletics."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 

JACK  LORIMER'S  HOLIDAYS;  OR,  MILLVALE 
HIGH  IN  CAMP.    By  WINN  STANDISH. 
Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .     $1.50 
Full  of  just  the  kind  of  fun,  sports  and  adventure  to 

excite  the  healthy  minded  youngster  to  emulation. 

JACK  LORIMER'S  SUBSTITUTE:  OR,  THE  ACT 
ING  CAPTAIN  OP  THE  TEAM.    By  WINN  STANDISH. 
Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .     $1 . 50 
On  the  sporting  side,  this  book  takes  up  football,  wres 
tling,  and  tobogganing. 

JACK  LORIMER,  FRESHMAN.  By  WINN 
STANDISH. 

Square  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .     $1.50 
This  book  is  typical  of  the  American  college  boys'  life 

and  is  a  lively  story. 

A— 11 


L.   C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY'S 


GABRIEL  AND  THE  HOUR  BOOK 

By  EVALEEN  STEIN. 

Small  quarto,   cloth  decorative,  illustrated  and  deco 
rated  in  colors  by  Adelaide  Everhart     .        .        .     $1.00 
Gabriel  was  a  loving,  patient,  little  French  lad,  who 
assisted  the  monks  in  the  long  ago  days,  when  all  the  books 
were  written  and  illuminated  by  hand,  in  the  monasteries. 
"  No  works  in  juvenile  fiction  contain  so  many  of  the 
elements  that  stir  the  hearts  of  children  and  grown-ups  as 
well  as  do  the  stories  so  admirably  told  by  this  author." 
—  Louisville  Daily  Courier. 

A  LITTLE  SHEPHERD   OF  PROVENCE 

By  EVALEEN  STEIN. 

Cloth,  12mo,  illustrated  by  Diantha  H.  Marlowe     $1 . 25 

"  The  story  should  be  one  of  the  influences  in  the  life 

of  every  child  to  whom  good  stories  can  be  made  to 

appeal."  —  Public  Ledger. 

THE  LITTLE  COUNT  OF  NORMANDY 

By  EVALEEN  STEIN. 

Cloth,  12mo,  illustrated  by  John  Goss        .      .      $1.25 
"  This  touching  and  pleasing  story  is  told  with  a  wealth 
of  interest  coupled  with  enlivening  descriptions  of  the 
country  where  its  scenes  are  laid  and  of  the  people  there 
of."  —  Wilmington  Every  Evening. 

ALYS-ALL-ALONE 

By  UNA  MACDONALD. 

Cloth,  12mo,  illustrated $1 . 50 

"  This  is  a  most  delightful,  well-written,  heart-stirring, 
happy  ending  story,  which  will  gladden  the  heart  of  many 
a  reader."  —  Scranton  Times. 

ALYS  IN   HAPPYLAND.     A  Sequel  to  "Alys-All 

Alone."    By  UNA  MACDONALD. 

Cloth,  12mo,  illustrated $1 . 50 

"  The  book  is  written  with  that  taste  and  charm  that 
prepare  younger  readers  for  the  appreciation  of  good  litera 
ture  when  they  are  older."  —  Chicago  Tribune. 
A— 12 


BOOKS  FOR    YOUNG  PEOPLE 


THE 

Little  Cousin  Series 

(TRADE  MARK) 

Each  volume  illustrated  with  six  or  more  full  page  plates  in 

tint.     Cloth,  i2mo,  with  decorative  cover, 

per  volume,  60  cents 

LIST  OF  TITLES 

BY  MARY  HAZELTON  WADE,  MARY  F. 

NixoN-RouLET,  BLANCHE  Me M ANUS, 

CLARA  V.  WINLOW,  FLORENCE  E. 

MENDEL  AND  OTHERS 

Our  Little  African  Cousin       Our  Little  Hungarian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Alaskan  Cousin      Our  Little  Indian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Arabian  Cousin      Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Argentine  Cousin  Our  Little  Italian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Armenian  Cousin  Our  Little  Japanese  Cousin 
Our  Little  Australian  Cousin  Our  Little  Jewish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Austrian  Cousin     Our  Little  Korean  Cousin 
Our  Little  Belgian  Cousin      Our  Little  Malayan  (Brown) 
Our  Little  Bohemian  Cousin  Cousin 

Our  Little  Brazilian  Cousin    Our  Little  Mexican  Cousin 
Our  Little  Bulgarian  Cousin   Our  Little  Norwegian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Canadian  Cousin   Our  Little  Panama  Cousin 
Our  Little  Chinese  Cousin      Our  Little  Persian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Cuban  Cousin         Our  Little  Philippine  Cousin 
Our  Little  Danish  Cousin       Our  Little  Polish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Dutch  Cousin         Our  Little  Porto  Rican  Cousin 
Our  Little  Egyptian  Cousin    Our  Little  Portuguese  Cousin 
Our  Little  English  Cousin       Our  Little  Russian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Eskimo  Cousin       Our  Little  Scotch  Cousin 
Our  Little  French  Cousin       Our  Little  Servian  Cousin 
Our  Little  German  Cousin      Our  Little  Siamese  Cousin 
Our  Little  Grecian  Cousin      Our  Little  Spanish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Hawaiian  Cousin  Our  Little  Swedish  Cousin 
Our  Little  Hindu  Cousin        Our  Little  Swiss  Cousin 

Our  Little  Turkish  Cousin 
A— 13 


Z.  C.  PAGE  &f  COMPANY'S 


THE  LITTLE  COUSINS  OF  LONG 
AGO  SERIES 

The  publishers  have  concluded  that  a  companion  series 
to  "  The  Little  Cousin  Series,"  giving  the  every-day  child 
life  of  ancient  times  will  meet  with  approval,  and  like  the 
other  series  will  be  welcomed  by  the  children  as  well  as 
by  their  elders.  The  volumes  of  this  new  series  are  accu 
rate  both  historically  and  in  the  description  of  every-day 
life  of  the  time,  as  well  as  interesting  to  the  child. 

Small  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated 60c 

OUR  LITTLE  ROMAN  COUSIN  OF  LONG 
AGO 

By  JULIA  DAKROW  COWLES. 

OUR  LITTLE  ATHENIAN  COUSIN  OF  LONG 
AGO 

By  JULIA  D ARROW  COWLES. 

THE  PHYLLIS  SERIES 

By  LENORE  E.  MULETS 

Each,  one  volume,  cloth  decorated,  illustrated    ,      $1.25 

PHYLLIS'  INSECT  STORIES 

PHYLLIS'  FLOWER  STORIES 

PHYLLIS'  BIRD   STORIES 

PHYLLIS'  STORIES  OF  LITTLE  ANIMALS 

PHYLLIS'  STORIES  OF  BIG  ANIMALS 

PHYLLIS'  TREE  STORIES 

PHYLLIS'  STORIES  OF  LITTLE  FISHES 

"  An  original  idea  cleverly  carried  out.  The  volumes 
afford  the  best  kind  of  entertainment;  and  the  little  girl 
heroine  of  them  all  will  find  friends  in  the  girls  of  every 
part  of  the  country.  No  juveniles  can  be  commended 
more  heartily."  —  St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 
A— 14 


